America Saves the Day and Other Lies
by Sleeping Insomniac
Summary: In order to make the Allies' meetings go by more smoothly, America does some digging into England's and China's past. He uncovers some surprises in their relationship along the way...with a little help from France. England/China
1. Chapter 1

America was not as oblivious as his teammates seemed to think. True, he was easily excited over small details, and, yes, he loved a good super hero comic book, but he wasn't an idiot. He noticed things.

He noticed that at the Allies' meetings, England always sat next to France, even though all they did was fight. He noticed that China always sat next to Russia even though all they did was...well, America wasn't totally sure, but he knew that it involved a panda costume.

France had mistaken China for a girl when they'd first met, though apparently the revelation that this wasn't true didn't deter his interest; China kept his distance after that. England was petrified of Russia.

Now, America, being the hero, had to sit at the head of the table during meetings, but, as far as he was concerned, everybody else should sit next to people they like. They'd probably be in better moods if that were the case. Maybe if people weren't so cranky all the time, they might realize how brilliant his tactics for defeating the Axis Powers were.

At every meeting, though, England would sit next to France and start a fight, and China would sit next to Russia and avoid eye contact. France would make fashion suggestions to England. Russia would smile at China. Everyone got upset, and nobody liked America's super amazing plans for stopping the Axis.

If this wasn't America's place to intervene, he didn't know what was.

"Hey, England," he said after one especially unproductive meeting.

"Mm? ...What?" England asked, raking a hand through his blond hair.

"At the next meeting, why don't you sit next to China?" America suggested, smiling. England's hand dropped from his hair and fell to his side, his expression hardening.

"Idiot! Why would you even suggest that?" he snapped. America blinked.

"Ha? It's a good idea! When you sit next to France, you fight, and you don't like sitting next to Russia. Why not China?"

"Why would I want to sit next to him? We have nothing to say to one another."

"Why not?" America frowned. "Those wars were a long time ago, and you're allies now, so-"

"America, drop it," England cut him off before stalking out of the meeting room.

Well, _that_ hadn't gone according to plan at all. Over the next few days, America kept trying to get England to explain why he didn't want to sit next to China. He tried every tactic: It's not that big a deal! You're just sitting! It can't be any worse than France!

Nothing. England wouldn't say a word about it. America was starting to wonder if China had some sort of dirt on England. Maybe there was an embarrassing story. It probably involved England being drunk.

Now America _really_ wanted to know what the deal was.

If England wasn't going to spill, then America would just have to get the story from China. They were allies, too, after all, and China was much more agreeable than England. America almost laughed at his own silliness - why ask grouchy old England about something when nice, panda-loving China could tell him?

"China, China!" America called, waving. China jogged over to him, ponytail bouncing behind his shoulders.

"Aiya! What is it, America, aru? What's wrong?" China panted.

"At our next Allies meeting, I think that you should sit next to England!" America said with a wide smile. China, still catching his breath, stared at him.

"...What, aru?"

"Yeah!" America lit up. "See, England and France always fight, so I thought meetings would go a little better if they weren't sitting right next to one another, so maybe you could-"

"No," China cut him off.

America started at the sharp tone of his voice. "Why not?" he whined.

"I'm not sitting next to that opium bastard, aru," China said. "If he doesn't like sitting next to France, then he can sit next to Russia, aru."

"What's the big deal about sitting next to one another?" America asked, throwing up his hands. "The Opium Wars were a long time ago, and-"

"It wasn't _that_ long ago," China mumbled, looking away. "Only a hundred years, aru."

America sighed and lowered his arms. "Sounds like a long time to me, but I guess you're a lot older than I am."

"Not even a hundred years ago," China said distantly, twirling his ponytail around his finger, "that opium bastard was disregarding my laws, getting me addicted to his drugs, and using me for his own ends, aru." America fidgeted. "He just came in and took what he wanted, aru," China continued. "He forced me to sign his treaties and reaped all the benefits."

"O-Oh," America said. He hated this; China was getting so emotional, and England sounded horrible, and this was not the kind of dirt America had been hoping to get. "W-Well...I guess that explains why England didn't want to sit next to you, either."

China's head snapped up, his golden eyes refocused and locked on America's. "What did you just say, aru?"

"What?" America squeaked. China's eyes were burning into his. "Well, I asked England if he'd sit next to you, and he said no way, so I thought-"

"What, that opium bastard doesn't want to sit next to me, aru?" China seethed. "He's got a problem with that? What, would he feel _uncomfortable_, aru?"

"Probabaly?" America guessed meekly.

"Oh, well, we can't have him feeling _uncomfortable_ around me, now can we, aru?" China snapped, turning away. "That really just wouldn't be _right_, now would it, aru? Okay, America, you got it. I'll sit next to that opium bastard at our next meeting. You can count on it, aru!" With that, China stormed off.

America whimpered. "I think he should sit next to France!" he said.


	2. Chapter 2

England sighed as he made his way to the Allies' meeting room. This meeting was going to go terribly wrong, he already knew. Something inside of him said that today would not be a good day.

America was probably going to bring up China again. Leave it to that idiot to want to talk about something like that. It was enough that they sat at the same table for these meetings, after all. America _would_ be oblivious enough not to realize the tension that still existed between China and him.

_The sun never set on the British Empire. He would sail to the east, into uncharted territory. He would go where no one else could, _do_ what no one else could. England was going into Asia and taking China for himself._

_...if he ever got out of these woods, that is._

_Frustrated, England adjusted his feathered hat and slashed his sword at a spindly branch blocking his path. Where in the hell _was_ he? He'd sailed his ship a great distance and come into an area his broken understanding of the Chinese language told him was Qing Niwakou._

_When the local Chinese caught sight of the British flag flying on his flagship, a crowd formed. England ordered his men to stay on the ship and be prepared to sail a decoy route and return to a separate rendezvous spot should they be attacked. He himself took to the land._

_The crowd glared at him warily, dozens of eyes evaluating this golden-haired, green-eyed stranger. England squared his shoulders, feeling the weight of his pistol on his right hip, a rapier at his left. From the ship, his crew watched as their captain strode assuredly through the Chinese village._

_The villagers meant nothing to England, and he sensed that they recognized this with varying levels of insult or relief. He wasn't taking little villages in poorly-guarded ports; France might have standards that low, but England certainly didn't. He was going to take China, and never again would some foolish wino suggest that he didn't have what it took to be a "real" empire._

_He'd assumed cover once he'd left the port town, hearing excitement breaking out behind him. It seemed he would have to meet with his crew at the rendezvous spot._

_That had been hours ago._

_England refused to let himself panic. So he'd gotten a little off-course in the woods. Big deal. So he'd definitely passed that tree four times already. No problem. So there was a giant panda lumbering along beside him. That meant nothi-_

_England shrieked and broke into a run, putting as much distance between himself and the bear as possible. Sure that any moment an army of pandas would leap out in front of him from behind a wall of bamboo, England continued speeding through the woods until he reached a clearing and nearly tripped over his own boot straps._

_At the other end of the clearing, someone was kneeling down and tending to a small bamboo plant, carefully lifting it from its bent state. England stopped, wondering what someone would be doing all the way out here in the middle of Chinese nowhere. Whoever it was, she had long, dark hair that fell over her shoulders in waves, and she wore a traditional-looking crimson robe and black slip-on shoes. As England stumbled into the clearing, she turned around to face him, her eyes the color of liquid gold._

_England faltered, reaching up to fumble with his feathered hat, removing it and bowing his head._

_"_M-My apologies_," he sputtered. The girl tilted her head and looked at him, and it occurred to England that he was speaking English, like an idiot, and that she would have no idea what he was saying. "Uh..." He racked his brain for knowledge of the Chinese language beyond the "I've come to conquer you" speech he'd already memorized for when he met China face-to-face. "I...sorry? No mean...scare."_

_The girl grinned widely, and England fidgeted with his hat, feeling foolish. It had never occurred to him that he would have to speak any more Chinese than what he'd planned to say. It had also never occurred to him that Chinese girls were this beautiful._

_This meeting was a sign: England was going to win, and China would be his. Meeting a pretty girl was always a good sign - that was what France always said, and, though England had scoffed at him before, he agreed with him now. Surely, once he'd conquered all of China, she would like coming back to London with him, and-_

_She was saying something to him. Oh, God. He had no idea what she was saying. Why didn't he learn more Chinese? How was he supposed to communicate with her? He must have looked confused, because the girl giggled and slowed her speech so that he could translate._

_"Hello. Welcome to China. Something something hat something like something aru."_

_She liked his hat! It was disrespectful to wear a hat when greeting a lady, particularly after startling her as England had, but he put his hat onto his head with an air of confidence, flipping the feather back with a flick of his wrist. The girl's eyes dropped to England's body, and he felt his face burning self-consciously until he realized that she was looking at his pistol._

_"Oh, this?" he managed, cursing his terrible Chinese. "This not...uh...I not...you?" She grinned. Oh, she was _beautiful_. France would pitch a fit when England brought her home. "I...look for China."_

_The girl's grin disappeared. Ah. He'd alarmed her._

_"I look for China," he repeated, hoping his voice was gentle and soothing. "I...uhh...meet China?" How exactly was one supposed to go about telling his future wife that he needed to conquer her country?_

_The girl tilted her head and said something that England was sure he'd misunderstood._

_"What?" he asked._

_"_I_ am China," she said._

England finished drawing the pictures of the Axis Powers on the chalkboard at the front of the meeting room. He had a few minutes left still before anyone else arrived, so he sat in his usual seat. France would be next, which would normally be an annoyance, but the wino's arrival came between England's and China's, and with all these memories that idiot had triggered with his seating arrangement, England didn't think that he could handle being alone in a room with China.

Behind him, the door opened, and Engand closed his eyes, breathing deeply to calm himself before the meeting got underway. The seat beside him scraped against the floor as it was pulled back, and England heard France sit down beside him. Unusual. Normally, France would start bothering him immediately, but he was quiet today. No matter. Footsteps were in the hall, and the rest of the Allies trooped into the meeting room.

"...and I said, _mon dieu!_ Could you believe it, she was..."

England's eyes snapped open as France's voice passed him. How was that - France was sitting right beside him, and...England watched as France and Russia, who was apparently listening to the story, walked around to the other side of the table and sat down across from him. America stood at the head of the table, looking uncharacteristically nervous. England turned to face the seat beside him.

With a glimmer of spite twinkling in his golden eyes, China smiled back at him.

"_Ni hao_, ahen. I hope you don't mind my sitting next to you, ahen," China said brightly.

England turned to glare at America, who was preoccupied with making nonsensical scribbles on the chalkboard and humming to himself the theme song from a super hero cartoon.


	3. Chapter 3

England clenched his fists, bunching up the once-pressed material of his slacks into a wrinkled mess. America was babbling like an idiot, as always, and China was staring at him. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see China smiling at him. Bastard.

Refusing to return China's challenging gaze and give him the satisfaction, England looked elsewhere, anywhere - except at Russia. His eyes fell on France, who was watching him with raised eyebrows. Oh, no, that was never a good sign. Catching his glance, France looked back and forth between England and China and puckered his lips. Barely able to hide his disgust, England looked away. America was babbling, though no one was paying any attention to him.

"...and that's how we'll beat the Axis! What do you think?" he wrapped up quickly.

"No, it's stupid," England replied automatically.

"Ehh?" Russia asked, raising his hand. "Umm, but, America, are you sure that a super-sized wurst will be enough to distract Germany long enough to attack?"

Huh. Somebody actually _was_ paying attention to America's chatter.

"We're getting nowhere. Again." America hung his head, sneaking a cautious glance at China, who was smiling at England, and England, who was adamantly avoiding eye contact. "Um...maybe we should just...finish up for today."

"If you say so," Russia said.

"Fine," England said, standing abruptly and collecting his things, heading for the door. China followed him out.

"What's your rush, ahen?" he asked sweetly. England replied abruptly, and China laughed, their bickering voices echoing down the hall.

"What's going on with them?" Russia asked.

"Y-You noticed it, too, h-huh?" America replied, his voice high.

"Ah, who couldn't?" France laughed. "You could cut the sexual tension in this room with a knife, no?"

The voices in the hallway fell silent.

"Ah, China seducing dear England, stirring all sorts of passion inside him, intimidating him completely. England trying to play it cool, giving everything away with that ridiculous blush of his."

Footsteps rushed back towards the meeting room.

"The two of them rushing off to be alone together, having a secret rendezvous in the hallway. _Ooh_, I can only imagine what sort of delicious _scandal_ is going on out there!"

"You stupid wino!" England snarled as he and China burst back into the meeting room. "What sort of weird things are you saying?"

"Yeah!" China piped in, also visibly annoyed. "You're crazy if you think I'd partake in a delicious scandal with Opium, aru!"

France laughed as if neither England nor China had even spoken. "Ah, it's like the old days, isn't it?" America sat up straighter, looking from England and China to France.

"What's like the old days?" he asked.

"Nothing!" England and China chorused loudly, both glaring daggers at France, who laughed.

"Don't get so bent out of shape!" France said. "Remember, England, how you were always sneaking off to-"

"The meeting is over! Just go home!" England snapped, and his murderous expression sent France skirting out of the meeting room, a confused, but smiling, Russia behind him. America finally stood from his seat at the head of the meeting table, pretending to shuffle his papers.

"Well, that was productive, I should probably get going, have a safe trip home," he rattled, trying to get past England and China, but the other two barricaded the door.

"Why did you want us to sit next to one another?" England asked. "Don't give us any stupid answers, either."

"What did France tell you, aru?" China added heatedly. America looked back and forth between the two in confusion.

"...What?" he finally managed.

"Whatever France said, don't believe it, aru," China said. "He has no idea what he's talking about."

"Agreed," England fumed, though his eyes flickered to China briefly, betraying an emotion that didn't match the fury in his voice. America noticed this.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said. "I haven't talked to France."

After staring at him for a minute or so longer, England and China seemed to realize that he was telling the truth, and, after exchanging a nervous look, they left. America stood alone in the meeting room.

"I'm going to talk to him _now_, though," America added to himself.

_How was it possible that this girl was China? England was sure that he'd heard her correctly - she'd even repeated herself - but he just couldn't comprehend it. He'd heard stories of China - a fierce martial artist and a respectable Asian power - but the rumors didn't match the angelic appearance of the person standing before him._

_"You are China?" he asked. She nodded. England couldn't believe he'd been speaking to China so conversationally, or that he'd even been thinking about bringing her home with him. How was it possible that-_

_A trap? Was that it? Had China set up this whole scenario in order to capture England? Had he fallen for it? No, as long as he kept his wits about him, he would be able to escape, but- Would he have to attack and fight his way out? Even with the threat of capture, the thought of raising his blade - or worse, the pistol - to this beautiful woman was out of the question for England._

_"You wanted to meet me?" China asked slowly, giving England time to translate. She still looked totally baffled. No. There was no trap. It wasn't possible. China had no idea that England was coming, no way of knowing that her country was about to become yet another conquered land in the British Empire. England couldn't forget his purpose now. Straightening his shoulders and brandishing his rapier for effect, he carefully recited the speech he'd memorized in Chinese._

_"I am England," he told her. "I have sailed on the flagship of a proud fleet from my homeland to China. On behalf of my nation, I am here to conquer your land so as to make it a part of the British Empire, the greatest power the world has ever known. The sun never sets on the British Empire. You should consider it an honor that your nation is so great that we have come to claim you as our own." Cutting through the air with one well-rehearsed swipe of his blade, England finished, "You may surrender and come quietly or else face the British fleet - and your demise."_

_China stared at him for a long time, which made England nervous. Had he memorized the words correctly? Had he made a mistake? Maybe it was a different dialect, or he had fouled up the whole speech and China had no idea what he was saying._

_Finally, China's expression softened into an understanding smile, the last thing England would have expected. When she spoke again, her voice was still slow so that he could translate and understand._

_"You sailed here all the way from England?"_

_"Yes." All right, China had at least understood that much. She didn't seem too concerned with the fact that he intended to conquer her, though._

_"That must have been a difficult journey," China noted sympathetically, brushing a lock of dark hair behind her ear. England watched as a single strand looped around China's porcelain finger, then bounced back into a soft curl as she drew her hand away. "Would you like to rest at my home and have a cup of tea?"_

_"Yes," England answered immediately. The word was out of his mouth before he even had time to recognize the thought process. If China hadn't been planning a trap before, she was certainly planning one now, luring him back to her home and fooling him into letting down his defenses. He had no reason whatsoever to trust her or to go with her to her home, but..._

_China smiled again and beckoned England over. "It's right this way," she said, pointing into the woods and starting off in that direction, disappearing into the trees. England followed without hesitation._

_A cup of tea sounded nice._

"America is an idiot. He probably genuinely wanted us to change seats for what he thought was the good of the meeting," England muttered as he and China walked down the hall. France and Russia were long gone.

"He probably suspects something now, ahen," China said. "You were acting so unnaturally, ahen."

"_I_ was unnatural?" England snapped. "Who was the one saying, 'Whatever France said, don't believe it,' again? Like that isn't the most unnatural thing you could have said to America!"

"Well, was I wrong? France doesn't know anything, ahen," China said firmly. After a pause, England chuckled.

"For once, we agree." Shaking his head, England sighed. "Look. I'm sure that America is curious about what happened between us all those years ago, but there's nothing for him to know."

"Of course there isn't, ahen" China agreed. "Nothing happened, after all." As he said this, he turned his eyes away from England, his expression mimicking his bored tone.

"Right," England echoed hollowly. "Nothing. We agree again."

"Beautiful," China said. England froze, and China walked a few steps ahead of him.

"What did you just say?" England asked sharply. China slowed, turning to face him.

"What, ahen?" he asked, annoyed. "I just said that it was beautiful, ahen." England faltered, looking away quickly. "What's the problem with that?"

"I just..." England willed himself to look back up at China as he spoke. "I can't believe you're saying that to me. You know...what that word means..."

"Of course I know what it means, ahen. Any child can tell you what 'beautiful' means: pretty, lovely, elegant. Hmph!" China rolled his eyes, and England's eyes narrowed, his annoyance resurfacing.

"That's not what I meant, and you know it!" he said sharply. "You know what that word means...when it's you and me."

China held his gaze for a moment. "Of course I know, ahen," he said levelly. "As difficult as it is to think of a time when you _weren't_ an opium bastard, my memory is better than anyone's, ahen. I remember what that word means to _you_."

England withdrew, green eyes flickering, then clenched his fists and stalked past China and out of the building. China glared at the floor, noticing a crack in the tile. As his gaze followed the spindly crack, he sighed, the anger ebbing from his eyes.

"And me, aru," he mumbled.


	4. Chapter 4

_The table China led England to was low to the ground and had no chairs, only cushions. She gestured for him to sit, and he did, though the setting of her table was bizarre to him._

_The teacup China placed in front of England had no handle. He stared at it while she left the room to retrieve the tea. She returned soon with a fine teapot and bowed her head as she knelt beside him and poured tea into his cup. She was so close; England couldn't help himself. He inhaled deeply through his nose. She smelled wonderful, like a flower he couldn't quite name._

_The tea China made for him was the most delicious that he'd ever had. In London, such a drink was a priviledge, a rare import from the East India Company, but here in China, it was offered immediately to a stranger. Curious._

_"You heard me," England said, stumbling over his words as he picked up the cup. "You know why I here."_

_"First, we'll drink tea," China replied, sipping from her own cup. "Then, we'll talk."_

_All of England's paranoia and fear of traps disappeared with one sip of jasmine tea. With one cup of the delicious concoction, England was thinking that his original plan of bringing China back to London with him was an excellent idea._

_Across the low table, kneeling on a soft cushion, China gracefully sipped the last of her tea. Sensing his gaze, she lifted her golden eyes to meet his and smiled at him over her teacup. Women in London would hate her, England thought deliriously. She was flawless._

_China set her teacup down carefully and folded her hands in her lap. Finished with his own, England put down his own cup, and China bowed her head, speaking; England didn't recognize all of the words._

_"I hope that the tea was something to you," she said. England could figure out the rest of the sentence, though he couldn't translate every word._

_"It...uhh," England cursed his poor Chinese yet again. He wished that he knew the word for 'delicious.' China looked up at him. She must have thought that his hesitation was because he didn't like it. Panicking, he raised his hands and said the only Chinese word he knew that would be appropriate in this situation: "Good! Good!"_

_China's eyes widened, and England wondered what his expression looked like. Then, she smiled, her shoulders trembling as a giggle escaped her lips. She clapped a hand over her mouth._

_"I apologize!" she said, bowing. "I something disrespect something guest!"_

_"It okay," England said quickly. China looked up at him, eyes sparkling, and laughed quietly, her fingertips still over her mouth, barely touching her lips._

_"You speak Chinese well," she said, and England was sure that he was being teased, but something in the way China's face was all lit up removed all sense of embarassment._

_"_You're so beautiful_," he blurted out, and her smile faded, confusion in her eyes._

_"_Beyoo-tah-full_?" China asked. Oh, he was speaking English again. He needed to stop doing that._

_"_Beautiful,_" England repeated, feeling his cheeks warming with a blush. China still looked baffled, but England didn't know the Chinese word for 'beautiful.' He couldn't improvise with 'good' - that wasn't what he meant. Maybe it was best that he'd fumbled in English. At least China wouldn't know what he'd said._

_With China's gaze on him, though, England realized with a sinking feeling that he would have to explain himself. He looked around and noticed a fine tapestry hanging on the wall behind China. Standing, he went over to it and pointed._

_"_Beautiful,_" he said again. If anything, China seemed more confused. England looked around again and noticed a vase of flowers by the window. He went to them and pointed. "_Beautiful._"_

_China frowned, tilting her head to one side. England looked around, but nothing else in the small room quite captured what he wanted to convey. He took China's hand and tugged, and she stood. "_Come with me,_" England said, and, though he'd spoken in English, China seemed to understand him and followed him out of the house._

_Outside, China's home was surrounded by tall trees. England led her to one and reached up, touching its aging bark and looking up at how the tree rose into the sky. "_Beautiful,_" he explained._

_Overhead, two birds England had never seen before flew out from the woods, their feathers bright and colorful, vibrant in the sunlight. As they glided by, England pointed to them "_Beautiful._" China looked back and forth from the tall tree to the exotic birds and then to her home. Her expression had become less confused and more curious._

_Turning to England, she grabbed his hand with both of hers and pulled, leading him in the opposite direction and through the woods on the other side of her house. Not far away, there was a stream, its clear waters babbling as they fell over a series of rocks. China turned to England excitedly._

_"_Beyoo-tah-full_?" she asked hopefully. England smiled and leaned over the stream. The water was so clean that he could see little fish. At the bottom of the stream, brightly colored pebbles shimmered, catching the light of the sun as it sank behind the trees. Before the light disappeared, England knelt down and reached into the shallow water, running his hand along the sparkling bottom._

_"_Beautiful_," he confirmed. Turning back to look at China, England saw her looking into the stream, her dark hair falling over her shoulder as she leaned. As she reached up to brush her hair away from her face, her eyes softened, a small smile playing on her lips. England stood slowly. "_Beautiful,_" he said._

_China looked up at him, startled, then seemed to remember why he was teaching her the word in the first place. Blushing, she pointed to herself._

_"Yes," England said. China started, then turned around, fidgeting and pulling at her hair. England couldn't help the grin that stretched across his face. If her blushing and the little smile he'd caught sight of was any indication, China had understood his compliment._

_"You came here to conquer China," China said slowly, and England started._

_"Yes," he said._

_"To take my country and make it a part of your empire."_

_"Yes."_

_"Why?"_

_England frowned at the question. "What?"_

_"Why do you want my country as part of your empire?" China asked, her back still to England._

_"Your ports would be useful for British trade," he said, remembering the Chinese he'd memorized in preparation for this inevitable question. "Your land and resources are abundant. Your country is the strongest Asian power. An alliance would be beneficial to you."_

_China laughed and turned to face him again. "It would be beneficial to _me_?"_

_"Yes," England said. "The British Empire is not an enemy you would want to make."_

_China's smile was wry. "As you said, _England_, I am the strongest eastern power. To have China as your enemy would be no better." England held her gaze levelly. "Still, I do not see why it should come to that. You appreciate my country for its worth; there is no reason we cannot work together, then."_

_Compromise? England smiled at the thought. When he'd arrived, he'd planned to meet a formidable martial artist, lay out his demands, and dominate. If China had agreed, England would have a treaty signed and take the nation for the British Empire. If China had refused, well, that was what the fleet was for; nobody said "no" to the world's greatest empire._

_England had never considered a third option. He'd never considered that China might be a beautiful woman who made delicious tea and had the prettiest smile he'd ever seen._

_Eventually, the British Empire would take China for its own; there was no question about it. Still, it would be much easier if China were to come willingly. He would just have to show her himself the benefits of becoming a part of the world's greatest power._

_"Work together...I would like that," he said. China lit up._

_"_Beyoo-tah-full_," she replied._

England spent a long time shut up in his study when he returned home from the Allies' meeting. He sat at his desk and crossed his arms, staring hard at the little clock he used as a paperweight, the lamp whose bulb he still had to change, and the stack of paperwork yet to be finished. As hard as he stared, an hour later, he couldn't say what time it was, what color his lamp was, or how many papers he still had to go through. He stared at them and thought of China.

Beautiful. It was still true. England gritted his teeth and clenched his fists, but he couldn't deny that it was still true. China was beautiful. It had been a long time since they'd talked, just them, face-to-face, and the last time they had-

_"I hate you! Never come back here again! You bastard! You bastard!"_

As if of its own accord, England's hand moved to the top drawer on the right-hand side of his desk. His fingers curled through the brass handle, pulling open the drawer; paperwork, a fountain pen, England's seal, envelopes. In the back, hidden beneath all that-

_"Coward."_

England closed his eyes. He thought that he was past this. He thought that he had buried away the ache and the regret of that night. He thought that he was beyond feeling sick and empty at that memory. Closing his eyes didn't help; he only saw more clearly China's eyes illuminated in the darkness, boring into his.

_"You bastard! You bastard!"_

Opening his eyes again, England swallowed, clenching his fists to keep his hands from trembling. It was nearly a hundred years ago - he should be past this. He should be over this memory. He should be over China. Still, the look on his face when England told him

_"I hate you!"_

what the treaty involved,

_"You can't! You can't, please, you can't!"_

what he had to give up,

_"Just go die! Just do us all a favor and kill yourself!"_

what price he had to pay for refusing the British Empire,

_"I never want to see your face again!"_

was something that haunted England in his nightmares even now.


	5. Chapter 5

_China had such a way about her - an air, a grace - that couldn't be captured with words. Something in her movement, her smile, her eyes, and her soft voice was so familiar to him. Something about the way she often seemed to know him better than he knew himself made England feel as if she'd always been a part of his life._

_China told him ancient legends of her country, tales of love and dreams, and he shared with her the best stories he could think of from London, bringing a smile to her lips. England especially loved her stories about dragons and spirits._

_"You like fantastic things," she noted when he asked her to tell him more about the _fenghuang_, the Chinese phoenix. England blushed._

_"I do," he confirmed, and she smiled. "Anything magical - I love it."_

_England had only told this to one other person: France, who'd laughed him out of the room. China's encouraging smile and shared interest in mythology inspired him to go on, though._

_"Incantations, spells, mystical powers - they all exist, you know. I believe it! It can be used for evil, too, though. Imagine being cursed with bad luck or being put under a spell to do someone's bidding. With magic, you could even make someone..." England gestured grandly, indicating something amazing that escaped his excited mind._

_"Fall in love?" China supplied, startling England. Her tone had been so conversational, and yet the suggestion struck him._

_"F-Fall in love?" he repeated._

_"Yes," China continued. "You've heard of love potions, right? Don't you believe in them?"_

_"Yes and no," England said. "I mean, I believe in magic, and so love spells must exist, but I would never use one."_

_"Why not?" China asked._

_"It would hurt too much," England said, looking away. "Loving someone with all your heart and not being loved in return would be terrible, but living the rest of your life knowing that their love was artificial, that every 'I love you' was a lie, that none of it was real...that would be unbearable."_

_China studied England for a long time after that._

_"You seem so practical, but you love magical beings and fantasies, things most people don't believe in, things that can't be explained with logic. You believe in the human condition, in the power of the heart. You believe in true love. You're a romantic." Tilting her head thoughtfully, she added, "I like that about you, England. I like that very much."_

China imagined that it was England standing before him. Yes, it was England, with his green eyes that always gave him away, no matter how much he tried to hide his true feelings. It was England, looking pathetic, looking pitiful, looking regretful - just like he had earlier that day. It was England. It was England. He was so close that China could touch him - it was England.

China spun around with a forceful kick, sending his punching bag flying. The training device landed with a low _thud_ about twenty feet away from him. China exhaled sharply, clenching and unclenching his fists.

It was England.

He could hit harder than that. He could kick harder than that. He had sent that punching bag further, had ripped and torn it before, and he should've hit it even farther than that with England in his mind.

China finished his training for the day and went inside.

_"What's that?" England asked, sitting on China's bed and watching as she folded up her laundry and put it away._

_"What's what?" China asked with a little smile._

_"That," England said, pointing to a small pouch in the corner of China's closet. China's eyes followed his indication, and she gasped, grabbing it and shoving it into the back of the closet._

_"It's nothing," she said sharply, trying to block England's view of the closet with her body. With her small, lithe frame, her success was limited. England stood and sidestepped China, who turned and pressed her hands to his chest, pushing him back with surprising force. He grunted._

_"China!" he said, eyes wide. She flinched._

_"I'm sorry," she said, lowering her hands. "I didn't mean to..." England sidestepped her again, catching her off-guard, and stuck his hand into her closet, fingers closing around the little pouch. "England! England, stop it!" she shrieked, arms swinging, slapping him away from the closet._

_"China! Stop it! Hey!" he yelled, pushing her back. Crying out, China stumbled backwards and tripped over the laundry, slipping onto the bed. "China!" England said, rushing to her side. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to do that, I just..." He reached out for her._

_China wriggled backwards, pulling away from England's hand, and he withdrew, stung by the rejection. "Give it back," she croaked, lunging for his hand. England caught her in his arms but held the pouch out of her reach. Turning, he finally got a good look at the prize in his hand. "England!"_

_It was a small enough bag, with an odd feel to it. England squeezed the pouch; it felt as if it were full of sand. His brow furrowed. "What...?" He opened the bag and looked inside: fine powder filled the bag. England studied the contents for a moment before looking up at China in surprise. "_Opium._"_

_"Is that what you call it in England?" China asked coldly, snatching the pouch out of his hand. "Anyway, this is just...I mean, I'm not..." She tied up the pouch again and slipped it into her robe. "I just tried it. Once. That's all."_

_"You don't have to explain yourself," England said, placing a hand on the back of his neck self-consciously. "We have that in England, too. We...have a lot of that in England, actually."_

_China glared at him._

_"I-I'm sorry that I took it," England said quietly. China continued to stare at him, but her eyes softened._

_"When I tell you to stop, stop," she replied, and he nodded. "You're my guest, England, and you're welcome here, but as soon as you stop respecting me, I'll have to ask you to leave."_

_"I understand," England said. "You're right. You're right."_

_China moved closer to him, tenderly brushing his bangs away from his eyes. When he looked up at her, she smiled._

_"I'm always right," she teased._

After finally admitting to himself that he wasn't getting any work done, England finally left his study to make himself a cup of tea.

Once China had showered and changed out of his training clothes, he went to the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea.

_Once China had taught him the proper word, he finally told her that her tea was delicious. "How do you make it?" he asked._

_"It's very simple," China replied with a little giggle. "I'll show you."_

_She showed him the leaves she'd gathered to make tea. He washed them off in a bowl while she put water over a fire to boil. As England was drying off the leaves, he felt China's slender arms wrap around him, her hands covering his._

_"Don't be so rough," she laughed, guiding his hands. "Pat the leaves dry gently, or you'll ruin them."_

_"S-Sorry!" England stuttered, flushing as he looked down at China's porcelain hands against his own._

_"Now," China said, pulling England's hands towards the pot, "we'll put the leaves in the pot and let them sit." England carefully tipped the leaves into the boiling water and watched as they floated for a moment before sinking to the bottom of the pot. "The water will take the flavor of the leaves in a bit, so all we have to do is wait."_

_With China's hands still on top of his own, her small frame still so close to him, England hoped that it was a long wait. A few seconds later, though, China withdrew and took the pot away from the fire._

_"It's very simple, you see," China said, carefully pouring the tea into a teapot._

_"I must bring some back to London with me when I return," England said. When China turned her curious gaze to him, he added, "London is a very sophisticated city. They'll love this tea."_

_"London is sophisticated," China repeated dryly, "and yet they don't have tea."_

_"We have tea," England corrected hastily. "We import it from India, but it is a luxury...and not as good as this. This tea is much better." China laughed, taking the teapot to the table. England followed with two teacups and put them down, leaning over the table. "You'd really love London," he said. "It's like no other city in the world."_

_China just smiled, lifting the teapot to pour, but England stood and grabbed the handle, his fingers brushing against hers. China looked up at him, startled._

_"Please," England said, "let me pour it for you."_

_China shook her head. "In China," she argued, "pouring tea for another is a sign of respect. A host must always pour for guests, just as children should pour for their elders and subordinates should pour for their superiors. I cannot allow my guest to pour tea for me."_

_"In England," England countered, "a gentleman always shows respect for his host." Eyes softening, he pulled gently on the handle, his other hand steadying the pot by gingerly holding its side. "Please, China," he said. "I want to pour tea for you."_

_England's gaze was brimming with an emotion China couldn't quite place - or maybe one that China _could_ place but wouldn't admit to - and her grip on the teapot relaxed, allowing England to take it from her. He was asking more of her than simply pouring tea, and she knew it._

_England looked down, tipping the pot and pouring tea into China's cup. When he'd filled it two-thirds of the way, he put down the teapot and took the handleless cup, holding it out to her. When his eyes met hers again, China's face flooded, and she took the cup, drinking from it immediately to hide her embarrassment. After a mouthful of tea, though, she was forced to look at her guest again._

_England watched her with such intensity and such blatant adoration, it was embarrassing - or, rather, it _should_ have been. What really embarrassed China was the fact that there was something flattering and enchanting about England's admiration, something that China _enjoyed_._

_"China-" England started._

Bang, bang, bang!

_Someone was pounding on the door and yelling._

_"_Captain! It's an emergency down at the dock!_"_

_England stood, alarmed, recognizing the voice of his crew member. "_What is it?_"_

_"_It's a French ship!_"_

_England's face darkened, and China stood up beside him, reaching for his hand._

_"What is it?" she asked, eyes searching his face._

_"France," he answered through gritted teeth._


	6. Chapter 6

"Ah-ah-ah, you know what they say about what killed the cat," France teased.

"Tell me what happened!" America yelled, pulling on France's sleeve. "You know! I know you know! Tell me!"

"What can I say? You've forced it out of me," France said loftily, hunkering down for a good gossip session. "England and China weren't always like this, you know. They weren't always fighting. No, that just came up during those wars and that treaty."

"That treaty?" America repeated, though France kept talking.

"Before then, they were quite...close. You know." France waggled his eyebrows. America held his gaze for a moment before reeling backwards.

"_No!_" he gasped, his face splitting with a grin.

"Oh, _oui_," France replied, laughing at America's response. "Little England was playing 'Build an Empire,' came across China, and, well, sparks flew."

"You're lying," America said. "You're just saying what'll bug England the most."

"Saying something just to bug England? Sure," France agreed. "But China?"

America considered this. "Well, no, not China." Regaining his earlier enthusiasm, he leaned forward. "So? What happened? Tell me everything!"

_So England thought that he could run off to Asia and conquer China? France scoffed at the thought._

_When the French ship came into port, the Chinese citizens looked at the flag and then at one another before a few ran off in the opposite direction. France couldn't help his triumphant laugh; his reputation had even reached China._

_Or so he thought. As his ship pulled up by the dock, a familiar voice hit his ears._

_"_France!_"_

_Well, well, Little England himself. France grinned as his ship slowed to a stop. England was stomping through the port and onto the dock, wearing what looked like a child's hat with a ludicrous feather on top of it._

_"_Ah, Little England!_" France called back in the other's native tongue, removing his hat with a flourish, radiant blond locks fluttering in the morning breeze, his new emerald coat billowing behind him, silver buttons sparkling in the sunlight-_

"Just tell the story!" America yelled.

_"_Get out!_" England snarled as France descended elegantly from his superior ship, a true representation of nautical power._

"Oh, whatever," America sighed.

_"_How good to see you again,_" France laughed as the shorter blond stormed up to him._

_"_Go home, you wino bastard._"_

_"_Why are you so upset?_" France asked. "_Intimidated by a _real_ pirate's presence? I-_"_

_France stopped, jaw falling slack. Behind England was a Chinese girl with bright, golden eyes and silky black hair. She was a vision._

"But China's a guy," America said blankly. "I mean, he's kinda swishy for a guy, but he's still a man. I think."

"Do you want to hear the story or not?" France huffed.

_Suddenly, England's ire at seeing France became clearer. The poor thing was jealous._

_"_And who is _this_ beauty_?" France purred, moving to pass England. England sidestepped and blocked France's path._

_"_Get out, France,_" England growled, stepping forward and pushing France back. France's grin widened. Poor, pathetic, little England had no chance at wooing a Chinese beauty now that a _real_ man had arrived._

_France shoved England aside, catching the shorter man off-guard and sending him, yelping, into the water. Distressed, the beauty gasped and rushed down the dock, but France stopped her, a slender arm wrapping around her waist._

_"Bonjour, _my sweet,_" he said, twirling a strand of her silky, ash-colored hair between his fingers. France was the master of romance; this lovely flower England had somehow stumbled upon would soon be melting in his arms. "_Come away with me, won't you, my dear?_"_

"We're still talking about _China_, right?" America asked warily.

"He was quite beautiful back then," France said. America scrunched up his nose.

"But he looks exactly the same, doesn't he?"

"Details, details," France replied hastily, waving his hand.

"So what happened next?" America asked.

_The beauty shrieked at France's affection, and he had just enough time to think to himself, 'How cute, she's shy' when a fist connected with his face._

_France grunted in pain, head jerking back, as the girl twisted out of his grip, flipping him over onto his back and landing a sound kick into his stomach. France groaned in agony as the girl leaned over him._

_"_Y-You're China...?_" France gasped, clutching his stomach._

_China put her hands on her hips and, in heavily accented English, replied, "_Stupid wino git._" Flipping her hair over her shoulder, she ran off to help England pull himself out of the water and back up onto the dock._

"I don't remember. It was a long time ago," France lied.

America licked his ice cream cone slowly, a clear signal that something was weighing heavily on his mind. After a long and confusing conversation with France, he'd visited both China and England to get the real story. It was much easier than he'd anticipated; once he'd burst into each of their homes with a bold "I went to see France, I know everything!" (which was only a little bit of a stretch), they'd both been quick to fix France's telling of the story with their own.

Three completely different versions of one story were battling in America's brain, and the confusion made him sad. He continued to eat his ice cream while trying to piece together what he'd gleaned from three totally opposite accounts of England's and China's past.

_"_So, England,_" France purred across the table, "_tell me something_."_

_"_Why are you still here?_" England asked flatly. He and China were both sitting at the same side of China's low table, sipping tea from handle-less cups, while France, dazzling as always, sat across from them, the cup of tea China had begrudgingly poured for him untouched._

_"_Well, have you..._conquered_ China yet?_" France waggled his eyebrows suggestively, and China frowned, tilting her head to the side, the translation not making sense. England put down his teacup, giving France a blank look._

_"_Actually, we're putting together plans for setting up a trade between our countries._" England shyly glanced over at China, who smiled back._

_France looked back and forth between the two, bewildered, then laughed. "_Aww, you thought that I meant _conquer_. You're so cute!_"_

_"_What on earth...?_" England scowled. "_You _said_ 'conquer,' you git. What else would you mean by that?"

China and England had been teaching each other their native languages. By the time France arrived, they were both understanding bits and pieces of one another's languages and cultures, including the odd verbal idiosyncracies. France made a particularly big deal over how England had taken to finishing every sentence with "aru," which was "so annoying!"

When America asked about learning each other's languages, England, very red-faced, had said that he wanted to be able to work more efficiently with China in business deals.

China had corrected, with a blush no less ferocious, that England was persistently trying to convince him to come back to London with him. America recalled from an earlier story he'd heard that both England and France had been under the impression that China was a woman. Still, the idea of England trying to court China was - well - _hilarious_.

According to France, of course...

"They kept trying to get rid of me so that they could be alone together," France said, laughing. "As long as I was around, though, I wasn't going to let England get away with wooing a beauty like that!"

"Still bitter that China shot you down, huh?" America asked brightly.

_"Would you like more tea, aru?" China asked tiredly, though France didn't seem to notice her tone. England went to translate, but France cut him off._

_"That would be just lovely, thank you," he purred, and China and England both looked at him in shock._

_"You speak beautiful Chinese, aru," China said softly, a flicker of warmth sparking in her golden eyes as she poured a new cup of hot tea for France. Out of the corner of his eye, France noticed that England's eyes seemed a little greener than usual. When China had put down the teapot, France quickly reached out and took her hands._

_"I'm so glad that it pleases you," he said, his voice smooth and charming. "Such a compliment from a beauty like yourself is a great joy to me." China's face lit up with a blush. England jerked forward, hand gripping the edge of the table so hard that his knuckles nearly turned white._

_"Ai-ya!" China squeaked, pulling her hands back quickly. Face still flushed, she looked over at England quickly. France laughed softly, noting England's ire out of the corner of his eye._

_"I apologize, my flower," France cooed. "I didn't realize that you were so shy!"_

_"_France_," England growled, trembling with fury._

_"What is it, England?" France asked, purposely speaking in very slow Chinese to embarrass the other even further in front of China. "You wouldn't be _jealous_, would you?"_

_China's golden eyes turned quickly to England, and France could see - with mixed feelings - that China was _anticipating_ England's answer._

_England, whose translation skills had just made it through that very difficult sentence, blushed and sputtered, managing all sorts of denials and insults, a highly telling response. France laughed again and turned to China, being sure to speak quickly and use big Chinese words that England wouldn't understand._

_"I've known this little fool for a long time," he said. "It seems that I'm not the only one under your spell, sweet China. He's completely fallen for you."_

_China's face flooded, her eyes wide, and looked back and forth between France and England before meekly excusing herself and hurrying from the room. As soon as she'd left, England launched himself across the table, aiming for France's neck._

_"_What did you say to her, you bastaaaaard?_"_

"Still," France told America, "I could see that they would be together eventually. I couldn't _understand_ it, but there was an interest there. So, because it was England, I decided to interfere."

"Anywhere we went, that stupid wino followed us" had been England's version, followed closely with: "Not that I wanted to be alone with China!"

"He wouldn't leave," China lamented, a hand at his forehead. "Opium actually wasn't a bad guest at the time. We could just drink tea quietly...but that wino- France was just...! Anywhere we went, he'd follow, even if we specifically told him to stay put."

_England was an early riser, and so was China. Maybe if they woke up a little earlier, they could avoid France and discuss how to get him to leave. His constant flirting and affectionate hugs and kisses were distressing to China, and his mere presence was terrible for England._

_Unfortunately, France beat England to getting up, so he was the first to join China for breakfast._

_"Good morning, my blossom," France cooed, running a hand through China's hair._

_"Please stop doing that, aru!" China blurted out, startling France. "I-I'm sorry, I just...the touching, the nicknames...why are you doing that, aru?"_

_"It bothers England," France admitted smilingly. China flushed._

_"Ai-ya! So immature, aru." China stepped back so that France couldn't reach him. "Why call me things like 'flower' and 'blossom,' though? I'm not a little girl!"_

_"Truer words have never been spoken," France said, his flirtatious personality ever-present. "You're a true beauty, China, a stunning woman, and-"_

_"Woman?" China repeated, apalled. "I...! I am a _man_, aru!"_

_"Well, then, you're the loveliest man I've ever laid eyes on," France continued, unaffected, winking at China._

_China stared at him._

_France stared back._

_Then, the fact sank in that China was a man and little, naive England, blushing and innocent, thought that..._

_France's laughter was so loud and hysterical that it woke England, who came to yell at him before shyly greeting China. France decided to keep the secret to himself._

_Meanwhile, China wondered if England, like France, thought that he was a woman..._

"Finally, China came up with an excuse that was _so_ incredibly pathetic, that I felt sorry for them and left the lovebirds alone," France said.

"Finally, I came up with a brilliant enough excuse to keep France away long enough to talk to England about how to get him out of my country," China said.

"Finally, China came up with the dumbest excuse I've ever heard to ditch the wino git for a while so that we could plan how to get rid of him altogether, but apparently, France is even more stupid, because he fell for it," England said.

_"England?" China called from upstairs. France and England were sitting at the table, the latter glaring at the former over their lunch. At the sound of China's voice, though, England's outlook changed, and he turned._

_"Yes?" he called back._

_"Umm..." China hesitated, then blurted out quickly, "There's a spider in my bedroom, and I need you to come and kill it!"_

_England blinked. France snorted, failing to stifle his laughter._

_"_You heard China, England,_" France crowed, waggling his eyebrows. "_China needs you to..._kill a spider_. You know, in China's _bedroom_."

_"Just go _home_, already!" England snapped, getting up and following China's voice._

"We decided that the only way to get rid of him was by force," England told America.

"We really had no choice. You know how France is," China told America.

"Pfft, 'there's a spider in my room.' Yeah, sure, China," France told America.

_"W-W-Wait! What are you doing?" France shrieked. China was sitting on top of him, having knocked him to the ground from behind, and England was tying up his hands and feet._

_"Sending you back to France, aru," England replied._

_"Please visit again," China added, "in a few years, aru."_

"They were so rude!" France wailed, eyes tearing up. "Attacking me like that and tying me up! It was so cruel!"

"He kept trying to put his lips on me or hug and touch me, aru," China said, squirming. "It was horrible! I just needed him to go away, aru."

"He was such an annoyance," England grunted. "He was there for three weeks. _Three weeks_ with France. I barely got to spend any time with China...not that I wanted to! He's just better than France!"

"You must've been glad to get rid of France!" America said brightly to both China and England.

"Certainly," England said. "We sent him back on his ship, and then it was just us."

"We were so relieved to be left alone," China said.

"Why's that?" America asked.

"We had trade negotiations to make!" China blushed.

"We had business to attend to!" England blushed.

America was not as oblivious as his teammates seemed to think.

_France stayed. Three. Whole. Weeks._

_Those three weeks with France had been torturous. What made the wino's interference all the more infuriating was his constant flirting with China - the touching, the teasing, and especially the kissing. It may have been a customary greeting in France, but the wino's kissing China's cheeks was far too friendly for England's liking._

_When China made up an excuse about a "spider," England hurried upstairs, praying that France would stay away. When he came into her room, the first thing out of her mouth was: "Get that stupid bastard out of my country."_

_That was when England really knew that he was in love with China._

_"We can tie him up and send him back on his ship," China said. "While he's sleeping, we'll take him out."_

_"That's underhanded and devious," England said sharply. Grinning, he added, "I love it."_

_At the word 'love,' China's expression grew shy, and, for once, England was the one to blush. He recalled how China had said that he was a romantic, that she liked that he believed in love. It seemed very long ago._

_"_'Allo_?" France called, his footsteps ascending the stairs. "You've been up there for a long time, you two. Was England not able to kill that spider?"_

_They got rid of France that very night._

_Surely his crew would be surprised when they woke in the morning to find their captain, wearing the most ridiculous pajamas, gagged and tied to the mast. England and China ran down the dock before the French sailors awoke, laughing when they were far enough away not to be overheard._

_"That was excellent!" China exclaimed._

_"That went perfectly!" England added._

_Laughing and panting from the run, they came into the clearing where China's house was. Catching his breath, England leaned against the door frame, watching as China opened the door._

_"...China?" he whispered, and she turned to him, her eyes luminescent even under the night's darkness. England cleared his throat, pushing himself off of the door frame and stepping closer to her. He took her hand in his own and bowed, brushing his lips against the back of her hand._

"You know that, when we first met, Opium thought that I was a woman, aru?" China huffed.

"Yeah?" America said blankly. "Everybody does, you know."

"How rude, aru!" China said.

"So, did you have to tell him that you were a guy?" America asked eagerly.

"...Yes," China finally answered, expression guarded, though America didn't seem to notice, if his laughter were any indication.

_Though it was a warm night, China's hand felt cold as soon as England pulled away. His kiss had been so soft. As England straightened, though, China couldn't help remembering his earlier conversation with France._

_"England?" China whispered._

_"Yes?" he asked, resting his forehead against China's._

_"You know that I'm a man, right?"_

"Did he freak out?" America howled. "Oh, man, I bet he did!"

_England froze, his expression struck. China's heart dropped as he looked up into England's face._

_"You're a man?" England asked slowly._

_So, it was true: he, like France, had thought that China was a woman. Now, at the worst possible moment, China had ruined everything with one question. All of those moments of sharing tea and pieces of themselves were lost. All of England's compliments, all of his affection, all of the intensity of his gazes, were meant for someone else._

_England held China's gaze, considering his words carefully._

_"Hell if I care," he finally said, grinning._

"He took it pretty well, actually," China answered vaguely.


	7. Chapter 7

"China and I got along very well back then," England admitted slowly, his eyes unfocused as he looked past America. "I remember many nights we would have a cup of tea and just enjoy each other's company."

"Doing what?" America asked.

"Oh, different things. Stargazing. Drinking tea. Talking."

"Wow, that sounds super lame!"

_"Tell me about London," China whispered, inching closer to England and curling up against him. England carefully put his arm around China's shoulders and rested his cheek against the top of his head._

_"It's a busy city, but beautiful," England said, closing his eyes and trying not to drift off to sleep when he was so comfortable. "There are always people rushing about, and it can be fascinating just to observe the city in motion. It rains quite a bit, but that only makes one appreciate the sun more. You can go to the theater...and you must visit Westminster Abbey. The architecture is in a league of its own. It's really spectacular."_

_"Hmmm," China murmured. "I'd love to see it for myself."_

_England's eyes snapped open, and he nearly sat up except for the fact that China was curled up against him, eyes closed. "You want to see London?"_

_"Yes, it sounds lovely," China yawned._

_"Come back with me," England urged, suddenly very much awake. "We'll take my ship. I'll show you everything. You'll love London, and-"_

_China's eyes opened, and he sat up, pulling away from England's embrace and looking out the window._

_"Did you hear that?" China asked, alarmed._

_"Hear what?" England asked, though as soon as the question was out of his mouth, he heard what China was talking about; outside China's window, he could hear trees rustling. "It's probably just a panda, isn't it?" It was amazing to England how quickly one got used to pandas at China's house._

_"That's not a panda," China said simply, standing and heading for the door. England followed._

_Outside, England's eyes had to adjust to the dark, but China seemed unaffected, slipping off into the night. England listened for rustling, and when the sound came again, he followed it. China's home was much darker than the city streets he was used to, even though England had been in this place for months, and he kept crashing into trees. Eventually, he stumbled over China, who was running back to the house, something in his arms._

_"What is-"_

_China was already past him, though, and England raced to keep up, following the sound of China's feet racing through the woods. When they made it back to China's house, England panting, he realized that China was carrying a _baby_._

_"Who is that?" he asked, shocked. China turned to him, eyes wide._

_"I've never seen him before," China said. "I think that he's...like us."_

_"Bring him inside," England said, holding the door open for China._

_Once inside, England ran upstairs to get a blanket. While China swaddled the infant, England craned his neck to get a better look at the child._

_He had dark, silky hair like China, though his enormous eyes lacked China's golden hue. Despite that, England thought that the child resembled China very much - right down to the gender ambiguity. China seemed awfully sure that this was a boy, but England wasn't positive._

_"Hong Kong," China said abruptly, and England was pulled from his thoughts._

_"What?"_

_"It's Chinese," China replied, bouncing the toddler affectionately on his knee. "It means 'fragrant harbor.'"_

_"That's pretty," England said, "but what are you talking about?"_

_There was a long pause, then China stopped bouncing Hong Kong, turning him around and sitting him in his lap. Looking up at England with an unreadable expression, China brushed back the child's bangs._

_The toddler's eyebrows, thick and dark, were unmistakably England's._

"Hong Kong really tied us together," England said, turning away from America. "He was like...little pieces of us. When we found him, we had to take care of him."

"So you and China are Hong Kong's two daddies, then?" America grinned. England shot him a look.

_England had insisted upon taking in the child and raising him until he was old enough to exist on his own. China had hesitated initially but soon gave in, and the next few weeks were spent in China, caring for the fast-growing Hong Kong. England didn't bring up London for nearly a month, distracted by the baby._

_"Doesn't _he_ have energy?" China whispered, peeking into Hong Kong's bedroom one last time before shutting the door behind him. They'd spent the day playing, reading, and singing with Hong Kong, who stared back expressionlessly but cried if they stopped._

_"He'll be walking any day now," England said, and China smiled at the pride in his voice. England loved taking care of little Hong Kong - he was a surprisingly soft parental figure, though; China worried that Hong Kong would grow up spoiled if England had his way._

_"I still can't believe that we found one of us...especially one so young. When I found Japan-" China stopped abruptly, flushing._

_"Japan?" England asked. China had mentioned before that he'd raised a number of nations in Asia, Japan being one of them._

_"...It just...didn't end well between us," China said finally, heading down the hallway towards his room. England followed him._

_"What happened?" he asked quietly._

_"I...don't know," China admitted. "I don't know what I did wrong. I found him when he was little, I raised him and took care of him, I taught him to read and write...I only wanted the best for him. He was like my little brother, and I was so proud of him..."_

_"That's how it was with America, too," England said, and China turned to face him. The expression on China's face was something England had never seen before, and he hesitated. Maybe he shouldn't have mentioned America, bringing his own problems into the conversation and comparing himself to China. Still, China's lips turned upward into a sad smile._

_"Then you know how it feels," he said._

"China was nervous about raising Hong Kong," England finally continued once he'd finished chewing out America for the "two daddies" comment. "What happened with Japan was still weighing on his mind. Betrayal was his biggest fear."

Something changed in England's expression at that moment, and America sat up a little straighter. His movement caught England's eye, and the other paused, turning to him.

"What is it?"

"The way you said that..." America started, but the flicker of recollection had disappeared from England's eyes, so he just shook his head. "Nothing."

When he visited China afterwards, though, America remembered to ask about England and betrayal.

"Of course he betrayed me, that bastard!" China snapped. America reeled back from the sudden intensity of China's voice.

"What happened?" he asked.

"Tell me, America," China said, "how much do you know about opium, aru?"

"Uhh...not much," America admitted. He wasn't about to say that everything he knew about opium was what England had told him the Chinese were doing a few centuries before - nothing China would like to hear, surely. America wasn't _that_ stupid.

"Neither did I, aru" China said, his eyes hard as he held America's unwilling gaze. "But that opium bastard did."

_"We have this in England. We...have a lot of this in England, actually."_

"He was different back then, aru," China said, and America perked up, sensing in China's tone that he was about to get a true chunk of story. "He was younger. Naïve, maybe, but I always thought of him as so bright and optimistic, aru. He really had dreams and plans for the future. He thought that he'd be great, aru." China paused. "So did I, aru."

"So, what went down? Why'd he change?"

"The same thing happened to him that happened to every other nation I've known, aru," China replied. "He grew up. Every spark of wide-eyed innocence, every so-called 'childish' dream – gone, aru. All that was left was politics and self-righteousness. He…that opium bastard wanted power and an empire, and he was willing to trade anything for it, aru."

"Well, you guys were taking care of Hong Kong, weren't you?" America asked. "I feel kinda bad for him. It must've been like mommy and daddy were going through a divorce."

"It's not like we were married, aru!" China snapped, his voice rising, and his face flooded. "We…we were never married. It wasn't like that. We weren't…"

"France said some stuff," America said. "Like, it's France, and all, so I was kind of like, 'Whatever,' but…"

"But what, aru?"

America took a quick breath, willing himself not to burst out laughing as he said aloud what he'd been thinking the entire time he'd been listening to these stories from the past.

"What was the relationship between you and England back then?"

_At some point, China fell asleep in England's arms, but when he awoke, he was tucked into his own bed, the sun's rays spilling in through the window. He went downstairs to find England putting out tea and something that may or may not have been cooked rice - it was black - while Hong Kong sat on the floor and watched._

_As soon as China walked into the room, Hong Kong looked up at him silently, then grabbed the side of the table and pulled himself up into a standing position, reaching out for him._

_"Ni-ni," Hong Kong gurgled._

"His first word was my name, aru," China said proudly.

"'Ni-ni' isn't your name, China," America pointed out. China shot him a wounded look, so he added, "But why are you telling me this? I asked you about England."

"That morning was the first time I ever ate his cooking, aru," China said.

"It's gross, isn't it?" America laughed. China evaluated him.

"The first time you had his cooking, did you think that it was gross, aru?"

"Well, I was just a kid. I didn't know any better," America said quickly. China smiled.

"I liked it, too," he said. "I had never tasted anything like it. It was awful, of course, but England had worked hard on it, and he had made it just for me. Somehow, that made it less gross, aru."

America nodded, understanding perfectly what China was talking about, though he'd never admit it. He thought about what China said. He frowned.

"Did you just call England by his name?" he asked shrewdly.

"No," China lied.

_It was a while later when England brought up London again. Hong Kong was playing with a stuffed panda doll on the floor. China was pouring hot tea into their mugs, and England was quieter than usual for this time of day._

_"What's on your mind?" China asked._

_"I'm going back to London," England said. "I'm needed at home. I've been away for a long time."_

_China said nothing, pouring tea into England's mug and setting down the kettle. England grabbed his hands._

_"I want you and Hong Kong to come back with me," he said. "At least for a little while. Please." China looked up and met England's eyes, so full of hope. "Please, China. Come with me."_

_Hong Kong was looking at them. His expression was blank as always, but his attention was clearly fixed on them. China went over to where the little one was sitting on the floor – Hong Kong was growing bigger every day – and scooped him up into his arms._

_"What do you say, Hong Kong?" he cooed. "Do you want to go home with England?"_

_"Iggy," Hong Kong gurgled, flapping his arms._

"It stuck," China said fondly. "Back then, England and I always called each other by those nicknames...it was what Hong Kong first called us, and so we adopted those names, aru."

"Iggy and Ni-ni?" America snorted. "By the way, you never answered my question."

"What question, aru?"

"What was the relationship between you and England? You told me this whole story about Hong Kong and dodged the question." America said. China was quiet for a while, and America was just opening his mouth to ask the question again - perhaps China hadn't heard him - when an answer finally came.

"Our relationship was the exact opposite of what it is today," China said softly. "When we were raising Hong Kong, aru...and especially when I went to London. I intended to go for short vacation, aru. However, I stayed for...much longer."

"Why?" America asked eagerly, leaning across the table.

"England...said something stupid, aru," China said.

_"I love you."_

America wasn't an idiot. He was a lot more perceptive than the other Allies realized. That didn't mean that he didn't like to have fun every once in a while, though.

"Did you say something stupid back?" he grinned.

_"I love you, too."_

"...Shut up, aru," China mumbled, his face lit up with the fiercest blush yet.

_There were fireworks that night._

_China's and Hong Kong's luggage was packed and, along with England's own suitcases, loaded onto the British ship that had come for them. There was a festival going on in the city, which, according to China, "would be a shame for Hong Kong to miss." England gave in immediately._

_"My good suit has already been packed, though..." he said. China waved his hand._

_"I have plenty of clothes here. You can borrow something."_

_England looked at China's slim frame. "Would it fit?"_

_As it turned out, China _did_ have a navy robe that just fit, but it wasn't found without effort. When England emerged from his room, changed, Hong Kong was sitting at the table waiting for him, wrapped up in a finely embroidered robe. England couldn't help smiling._

_"_You look nice,_" he said; though they lived in China, England was sure to teach the child English as well. He would need to know it. Hong Kong evaluated him expressionlessly._

_"_Thank you._" He was growing up more and more every day; England could swear that he was gaining inches of height overnight._

_"_Where is Ni-ni?_" he asked, and Hong Kong sighed._

_"_China is still getting changed, England,_" he replied. England frowned as Hong Kong said his name - when did he stop using "Ni-ni" and "Iggy," anyway?_

_"_I'll go get him, then,_" he said, heading for China's room._

_England knocked on his door. "China? I'm coming in." He pulled back the curtain that separated China's room from the hallway. China was sitting on his bed, a small, round mirror propped up in his lap, pinning a lock of his hair up with a comb. At the sound of England stepping into the room, he turned and smiled._

_"Well! You look like you're going to a Chinese festival," he said. England tried not to stare at the red silk robe he was wearing or at that one loose strand of hair curling around his ear._

_"You're beautiful," he blurted out instead. China only laughed again, turning back to the mirror and finishing pinning up his hair._

_"You say that so often, it's beginning to lose its meaning," he teased. England sat beside him and leaned his head against China's shoulder._

_"I mean it," he said, and China smiled, running his fingers through England's unruly hair._

_"Ai-ya, couldn't you at least brush this?" he asked, his voice tender._

_"I did," England said. China stood and opened his closet, putting away the mirror and extra pins. The golden comb he'd placed in his hair sparkled, and England opened his mouth to compliment China again when something caught his eye. Near the ornate box into which China was placing his things, a similar pouch sat. "China," he said, and, at his tone, China turned around quickly. "You still have that?"_

_A shadow crossed China's face, and he looked back into his closet, already knowing what England was referencing. "Oh," he said lightly, picking up the pouch. "With Hong Kong being around, I completely forgot about it."_

_"Can I see it?" England asked. China's eyes darted to him again, and England felt a stab as he recognized a flicker of distrust. Still, China handed over the pouch. England squeezed the little bag, closing his eyes and exhaling. "It's lighter than it was before," he said._

_"No, it isn't," China argued, but England knew that he was lying._

_"Yes, it is. China," England whispered, "why are you still...with _Hong Kong_ here and everything..."_

_"It's not like I'm addicted to it, England," China snapped, yanking the pouch out of England's hand. "It just...helps me relax sometimes."_

_England held his gaze. "Relax?" China didn't answer his question, though, only glared at him. England was ashamed to think, even fleetingly, that, dressed in red silk, ash hair combed and pinned, and golden eyes darkened with anger, China was more stunning than ever. "If you're stressed out or upset, you can come to me," he said, shoulders slumping. "Always, China. I'm always here for you. You don't need opium."_

_China hesitated, eyes flickering down to the pouch. England reached out and covered his hand with his own._

_"Get rid of it," he urged, squeezing China's hand. "It's not good for you. Please, throw it away." China looked up at him again, the suspicion in his eyes replaced with an emotion England couldn't quite put into words but recognized from the night China had spoken about Japan._

_"Why do you care so much?" China asked._

_If England had been thinking, he would have planned his response better. He would have taken a thoughtful pause, sighing and looking into China's eyes for a moment before quietly and reasonably explaining the dangers of opium, the things he'd seen and heard about the drug in London. Maybe, if he'd been thinking and had done this, he could have saved China years of pain and suffering._

_He wasn't thinking, though. He was looking up into China's eyes and remembering the name for that emotion he saw flickering there: vulnerable. He was holding China's hand in his, feeling his fingers trembling around a pouch of opium - around an escape from reality. England wasn't thinking at all about logic or consequences; there was only China, here and now. So instead of taking a pause and considering his answer, he blurted out the first thing that came to mind - most ungentlemanly._

_"I love you."_

_China stared at him. England felt the heat of a blush on his face, but he knew that he was only saying what he'd been thinking since - well, since he and China met, actually. Now that he'd said it once, despite China's bewilderment, England couldn't stop himself._

_"I love you," he said, and it felt even better the second time. "I do. I love you, China." He squeezed China's hand again, pulling him a little closer. "I love that you're so gentle and kind, you're smart, you're strong...and beautiful. I am so grateful that you're in my life, China. I _love_ you. So, when you're feeling sad or lonely or hurt, I don't want you to turn to opium - I want you to turn to _me_. I want to comfort you. I want to make you happy! I-"_

_China pulled his hand away from his, and England looked up, startled. China's face was bright red, but his eyes were soft, and he tossed the pouch aside._

_"I love you, too," he said, and he threw himself into England's open arms. "You make me happy, England. I love that you insist on wearing ties every day even though it always takes you three or four tries to tie them properly, and I love your fuzzy eyebrows and your funny western clothes, and I love that when you cook, you turn everything black!"_

_"Wh-what kind of thing is _that_ to say?" England sputtered, flushing. "I-I poured out my heart and soul to you, and you say _that_? I don't turn everything black when I cook! It's just well-done, because it tastes better that way!"_

_"Well, it's better than yours! 'I'm _grateful_ that you're in my life?' Ai-ya, who says that? So corny!"_

_They said those things, but China was blushing and smiling, and England was holding him and kissing his silky hair. Neither noticed at first that Hong Kong was standing in the doorway._

_"We're going to be late," Hong Kong finally said, and England and China leapt up and ran out the door, scooping the child up between them and hurrying to the festival._

_The fireworks were amazing; they exploded in a myriad of colors, shapes, and sizes, lighting up the night sky. England and China missed the whole show, though; they both sat watching Hong Kong watch the fireworks. Normally expressionless and quiet, he stood and stared at the sky, his dark eyes sparkling with each rainbow explosion. When the show was over, he ran to England and China and cried that he wanted more. China said that it was time for bed. England bought a few miniature firecrackers from a vendor for Hong Kong to take home with him. By the time they had walked home, Hong Kong was asleep in England's arms._

China's eyes were unfocused and looking past him. America waved his hand in front of China's face.

"Hel-looooo! China! Earth to China!" America yelled, leaning over the table. "You in there?"

China started and leaned back, away from America. "Ai-ya! Why are you always yelling, America, aru?" He shook his head and stood up. "Would you like more tea?"

"No. Ew," America said, scrunching up his nose. China took his guest's teacup and sighed.

"So rude, aru. Opium spoiled you."

America looked as though he'd just been slapped. "England spoiled me? Yeah, right!"

"Hmph. If you were mine, I'd teach you manners. You'd respect your host, aru. If this is how you've turned out, I can only imagine how he's raising-"

"Raising who?" America asked.

"Whom," China corrected. "Opium didn't teach you how to speak, either, aru."

"'Who' sounds better," America said. "Fine. Who or whom, then? Raising...?"

"I'm getting more tea," China said. "Please excuse me."

Even when he was annoyed, he was polite. America would have marveled at China if he hadn't been so preoccupied with the question of whom England was raising. Then, America thought of the story he'd heard so far.

_"He was like little pieces of us."_

Hong Kong.


	8. Chapter 8

_The trip to England was longer and the British ship more rickety than China had anticipated; he spent most of the voyage lying in bed or vomitting into a bucket. England stayed with him, holding back his hair, rubbing his back, and cooling his forehead with a damp cloth. Hong Kong was allegedly under strict supervision of the crew, due to the fact that he'd been setting off firecrackers from the time they left the port._

"I only bought him a handful of those things!" England protested.

"Captain, we think that he's making his own explosives from scrap materials on-board," one sailor reported, saluting, his sleeve singed.

They finally arrived, and England was running around the ship making last-minute preparations and showing Hong Kong the skyline of England before them.

"That's England,_" he said. Hong Kong nodded._

When England went below to get China, though, he found the other in a heap on the floor, gagging into his bucket. "Whoa, whoa!" England rushed over and pulled back China's hair, wiping the sweat from his forehead. "Hey, trip's almost over. We're pulling into the dock."

"Oh, thank goodness," China moaned. "I can't...uhhhn!" England flinched at the sound of water hitting the bucket. China hadn't been eating much on this trip; he claimed that it was because English food tasted so awful, but England suspected it was because China couldn't hold anything down.

"We'll get a carriage that will take us right to my home," England promised. At China's horrified expression, he said, "It won't be a long trip! Really."

China shook his head, leaning back over the bucket. "I've never been sick like this before. I-I-I...I've never...maybe this wasn't a good ide...uck!" He spat into the bucket.

"Of course it was a good idea!" England insisted. "It was a tough journey, but you'll love London, and Hong Kong is so excited. I'm going to take the two of you on a tour of the city, and then maybe we'll go out for a drive and see the countryside. You'll see. You're going to love it."

China vomitted into the bucket.

America had been sitting in China's living room for nearly ten minutes. It couldn't possibly take that long to get another cup of tea. Maybe China was bringing out more snacks. Saying that America didn't have any manners. Hmph. Well, America wasn't the one who put out only a few plates of snacks for his guests - and all weird things, too, like vegetables.

He decided to go to the kitchen and see where his host had gone. China was standing at the stove, his teapot steaming, two empty teacups on the counter beside him.

_China insisted that he be allowed to wash up before coming off of the ship. England sent the crew ahead, waiting with Hong Kong while China washed off his face and hair and changed into new clothes._

"This is the first time the people of England will see me," China said. "When they do, I will not be frail, filthy, and seasick. I will be China_."_

When China came up to the deck, it was as if he'd never been ill. It was only when he came close that England could see how pale he still was.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"Don't be silly," China said.

"My carriage is waiting at the end of the dock." England gestured to where a horse-drawn carriage was parked, a man sitting at the reigns. China nodded. "Will you be able to make it that far?"

"That's nothing," China said. His eyes skimmed the dock, taking note of the sailors by their ships and the passengers getting on and off of various vessels. He breathed deeply, squaring his shoulders. England took Hong Kong's hand, then crooked his other arm and held it out to China, who looked at it blankly.

"I'll escort you," England explained. China looked out at the dock again and noted many English people walking about with their arms linked. This was customary here. He looped his arm through England's.

They walked down the ramp that the crew had set up for them and made their way down the dock to the carriage. All the while, China focused on standing straight and looking ahead, ignoring the stares and whispers as he passed. He was unlike any other person who had walked along this dock, he knew, and people were as curious about the unknown in England as they were in China.

He felt his gag reflex, his body still recovering from the voyage, but he refused to be sick in front of these people. He concentrated on his feet, keeping his pace and not stumbling. The carriage was just ahead.

England kept glancing at him, his arm holding China's tightly, and China realized that England's intention had been to help carry his weight to the carriage. He appreciated the gesture, but he had his pride. China could walk that far.

After what seemed like an endless walk, they reached the edge of the dock and the carriage parked there. England opened the door, and, once Hong Kong had slid inside, China, with all the grace and dignity he could muster, climbed up beside him. England got in after that and sat close to China. The driver pulled at the horse's reigns at England's instruction, and, as the dock disappeared behind them, China relaxed, leaning back in his seat and letting his pounding head fall onto England's shoulder.

"We'll be home any minute," England assured him. "Don't worry."

"I'm not worried," China mumbled. England turned to look back at him.

"You were amazing back there," he said. "I thought that you might need me, but you didn't."

"I need you," China said. "That doesn't mean that I can't walk on my own two legs, though."

Neither England nor China told America much about the time China spent living in England - only that their relationship was "different" then. America managed to squeeze a story out of England about China's hair, oddly enough.

"I bought him suitable clothes to wear," England said. "He couldn't go running around London in one of those long-sleeved traditional robes of his, after all, with his hair flying around everywhere."

_"This is better?"_

England turned and looked up to the top of the stairs where China stood, hands on his hips, dressed in a brown suit and tie, his long hair pulled into a ponytail. He grinned at England.

"I look English now?"

China hopped down a few steps before sitting on the banister and sliding the rest of the way down the staircase, jumping off at the bottom and landing cleanly in front of England. His ponytail bounced with the movement, long curls of ash hair falling over his shoulder.

"Oh, it's a little crooked," England said, reaching for his ponytail.

"Aiya. I don't tie my hair back often."

England paused, evaluating the crooked ponytail resting on China's shoulder. He smiled and drew back his hand.

"You know what? It suits you."

Beyond that, neither China nor England seemed to want to talk anymore. Even when America protested that there was nothing to feel bad about if the memories were good ones, they changed the subject.

"Fine, then skip the part you don't want to talk about," America said, pursing his lips. "What happened after that?"

They didn't want to talk about _that_, either, but at least there was a reason for it: what happened after that were the Opium Wars.

England had finally gotten annoyed enough to kick America out, and China had pulled the old "Aiya! Look at the time!" That was where the story ended, it seemed.

Now, America was sitting on his couch, finishing the last of his ice cream cone. He'd thought long and hard and pieced together France's, England's, and China's versions of the story, and he...sort of knew what had happened back then.

"Okay, then!" America said to himself, standing and clenching his fists, his ice cream finished. "Time for a recap, folks! So!" America began to pace back and forth in front of his couch. "First, France told England he was lame, so England went to China, who - whom - whatever - he thought was a girl, and, like, I totally get that. So England and China sat around and had tea for a while, then France showed up, and _he_ thought China was a girl, too, because, you know, duh. Then France creeped on China, found out he was a guy, had a good laugh, and ended up tied to his ship because England and China wanted to drink tea and talk about their feelings and stuff. While they were, like, bonding or whatever, China told England that he was actually a guy, and even though England must've been like, 'What, how?' he was apparently like, 'Cool,' and then England and China found a baby in the woods, which I totally don't believe, but whatever, and they named it Hong Kong because that's Chinese for something. Then Hong Kong, like, grew up overnight, and England found China's stash, they went to see fireworks, England found out China still hadn't kicked his habit, except China was all, 'I don't have a problem,' and England was all, 'Intervention!' even though he wouldn't tell me how he got China to stop doing drugs, and, like, then got him to start again, because I kind of know how the Opium Wars started, you know? Then they said quote-unquote 'stupid' things to one another - pfft, I'm on to you China - and they got on a boat for England, China puked up his guts but still walked all the way down a dock by himself, which is apparently impressive and stuff even though, like, dude, it's just a dock, it's not like it's the Great Wall of China - oh, hey, China! Ha! ...Then England made China quote-unquote 'brush that rat's nest' and dress like a dude for a change, and then there were good times and bad times that nobody will tell me about. Whew!"

America sat down again.

"This is so complicated," he whined, "and I _still_ don't know why they won't just sit next to one another during meetings!"

America sighed and flopped over, lying down on the couch. "I wasted a whole afternoon on this," he complained. "I went to France's house, I went to England's house, I ate England's cooking, I went to China's house...and for what? A whole big lump of that-was-a-long-time-ago, Aiya-I-don't-remember, and what-do-you-mean-my-scones-are-gross. This stinks! I wanted dirt on England and a legitimate reason why England and China won't just sit next to each other and not be lame at our meetings. Boo!" He hit his pillow. "Now they won't tell me any more of the story, and it's not like France knows! Who else is there? Man, now I'm never going to find out-"

Just then, America had a moment. It was one of those wonderful, glorious, auspicious, _heroic_ moments when the brain just goes "ding," and a little lightbulb appears over one's head. Of course. There _was_ someone else he could talk to - someone who would have been there, someone who would remember what happened and tell him everything.

America sat up straight, then stood, because standing is a much more epic position for the body to be in when one delivers a plot-twisting, audience-pleasing revelation. Of course - there was only one person who could explain everything and solve this mystery now.

"Hong Kong," America said aloud, and it sounded most heroic, if he did say so himself.

It had been a long time since America had seen Hong Kong. He lived with England, and England had kicked America out already, but, luckily, America knew Hong Kong's favorite places to hang out. Even though it was right under England's nose and he ran the risk of being caught, America checked the little clearing behind England's house, and there was Hong Kong, setting off firecrackers.

"Hey, Hong Kong!" America whispered loudly, and Hong Kong looked up at him, dark eyes impassive. He nodded, then looked back down at the firecrackers, lighting them. They crackled and sizzled, and Hong Kong stood and jogged away, hopping over a big rock and peeking over it as the explosives set off and shot into the sky, crackling and fizzing bright orange and yellow. In the distance, America heard what sounded like glass breaking.

"Hong Kong!" England's voice boomed, and America shrieked and dove behind the big rock. Hong Kong looked at him, eyebrows raised, and America momentarily pitied the younger boy for inheriting those, of all things, from England. Though it was difficult to determine the age of someone so small, already Hong Kong boasted all of China's exotic features - his almond-shaped eyes, his little nose, his high cheekbones - and, despite all of that, the poor kid still ended up with the ol' English eyebrows. No wonder China was so mad.

Speaking of mad, England strode out of his house and into the clearing, and, speaking of eyebrows, his were all bunched up. America recognized the expression from his childhood and hunched a little lower behind the rock. Hong Kong evaluated him steadily.

"Hong Kong!" England called, and America remembered how, years ago, when it was his name England would yell like that, he would try to run and hide. He was always too noisy, though, and England never failed to catch him. Hong Kong was small and stealthy, though; he probably got away all the time.

When England called him, however, Hong Kong stood up and trotted around the rock, going right to him. America watched in horror; his one hope for getting the dirt on England and China was suicidal. England's hands were on his hips and everything - was Hong Kong crazy?

"I was having my morning tea," England said, his voice calm and quiet - always a bad sign. "I was so startled when those explosives went off that I dropped my cup. I was using the good china."

"I'm sorry," Hong Kong said, and America clapped a hand over his mouth to keep himself from cooing at the faint English accent he heard. Hong Kong must have picked it up from living with England for so long. "I was just trying out some new materials I picked up."

"What have I told you about setting off those things in the first place?" England sighed. "No more firecrackers. You're going to march straight inside and clean up that mess, and then I want you working on your studies. All right?" Hong Kong nodded, and England's expression softened. He placed a hand gently on top of Hong Kong's head. "Just...be careful when you clean it up, all right? I don't want you cutting yourself. The teacup is broken, it's sharp."

"I'll be careful."

"And you'll study extra hard today," England added, playing with Hong Kong's hair. "Especially language. No English at dinner tonight."

"I understand."

England smiled and kissed Hong Kong's forehead. "Good boy. Run along and get your things, then come inside. Where is your sweater? It's cold out - don't want you falling ill. Right?"

"Right."

England turned and headed back inside, and America let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Once England was gone, he jumped out from behind the rock.

"Hey, Hong Kong! How'd you get off so easy?" he asked. "I always got a spanking when England got that mad at me!"

"I accept my punishments instead of trying to run away," Hong Kong said flatly, picking up his sweater and rolling it up into a ball. "England doesn't spank."

"England totally spanks!" America said, horrified. Canada had once accused him of being England's spoiled favorite, but Hong Kong didn't even get spanked! Talk about favorites. "Are you going to hide your firecrackers and play later?"

"No. England will let me play with them again. He's just upset about his teacup, and that _was_ my fault, so I should go clean it up. Then I have to study for tonight."

"Yeah, what was England talking about?" America asked. "'No English at dinner'? That doesn't sound like him at all."

"We'll speak Chinese," Hong Kong answered. "England makes me study history from all over the world so that I can be a useful contribution to society," - Here, America glared, but Hong Kong's expression didn't change - "but I have to study Chinese history and language especially hard. England doesn't want me to forget."

"Forget what? China?" America asked, his annoyance disappearing as the conversation conveniently turned to his own interests. "I would've thought that England would _want_ you to forget China!"

"No," Hong Kong said, looking over his shoulder at England's house. "It's hard for him - I know that speaking Chinese reminds him of the past - but he says that it's more important for me to remember than for him to forget." Hong Kong turned back to America. "England is kind like that."

America for once had nothing to say. Well, no, he had plenty to say about how ridiculous it sounded calling England _kind_, but Hong Kong didn't show emotion all that often, and his little dark eyes were all lit up now. This kid _adored_ England, took responsibility for his actions, and did what he was told. No wonder he was the favorite.

"Come back at four," Hong Kong said. "England goes out for a walk then, and I can spare some time away from my studies to talk."

"Talk?"

"That's why you came over, isn't it?" Hong Kong asked. "You came yesterday and upset England. Now you want to talk to me."

"I upset England?"

"I have to go now," Hong Kong said, turning, "so come back at four." He ran off to England's house, leaving America baffled. Triumphant, but baffled.

America came back at four - well, okay, four-fifteen. So he was a little behind. That didn't mean that Hong Kong had to welcome him with, "You're late."

"Good to see you again, too," America said. "Sheesh. England really _has_ gotten to you."

"England only goes out for so long, and you want to talk about something," Hong Kong corrected, leading America upstairs to his room. "You're only hurting yourself."

"Okay, fine. Whatever. Listen, Hong Kong, I want to talk about when you were a kid."

"I'm a kid now."

"Well, I mean a little kid," America said, exasperated. Hong Kong nodded impassively. "I want to talk about when you, England, and China all lived together."

"When we lived together in China?"

"No, in England."

"Oh." Hong Kong frowned, his eyebrows knitting up just like England's had earlier. "Why?"

"England and China have been kind of tense around each other lately," America said carefully, knowing that, with Hong Kong, one wrong word would cost him a response. "I want to know what happened between them that made them this way."

"You've already talked the them about it?"

"Yes."

"They wouldn't tell you?"

"No."

Hong Kong tilted his head to one side. "Then I shouldn't tell you, either. It's not my place to say."

"Of course it is!" America protested. "I mean, they're just being stubborn! Once you start talking about a problem, it's out there in the universe, and you have to deal with it! If England and China don't talk about this, then they don't have to fix it, and, trust me, Hong, they need to fix it."

"Please don't call me 'Hong.'"

"Sorry. Anyway-"

"No, what you're saying makes sense," Hong Kong said. "I love England very much, but he can be stubborn sometimes. Poor communication can lead to bad relations, too. It's textbook - I've read all about it." Hong Kong gestured behind himself to his desk, covered in books and papers. "If England and China are avoiding communicating now, then there is certainly a much bigger problem coming in the future."

"Exactly!" America said, pumping his fist. Hong Kong looked at him. "Sorry. So, you'll tell me what you know?"

"I will. What is it, exactly, that you want me to talk about?"

"What were they like when you and China first came to England?"

"Embarrassing."

The answer was as far from America's expectations as possible, and he nearly fell off of Hong Kong's bed laughing. Sitting at his desk studiously, Hong Kong watched expressionlessly.

"They had these nicknames for one another," Hong Kong continued monotonously. "Iggy and Ni-ni. They claim that _I_ came up with them when I was learning to speak, but I don't think that's true. I think that they had pet names for each other and used me as an excuse."

America howled. Between what he was actually saying and the bored tone in which he was saying it, Hong Kong was easily the best contributor to this story yet.

"Are you all right?"

"I'm _super_, Hong Kong. You just go on."

"They held hands all the time, too," Hong Kong said. "Everywhere we went, they were so...couply."

America continued to roar. He'd known all along, of course: England and China had been a couple. _That_ was where Hong Kong came from, _that_ was the 'something stupid' they'd said to one another, _that_ was why China had come to England and stayed for so long, and _that_ was why neither China nor England had wanted to talk anymore.

They had been a couple, and _that_ was the dirt.

"It was so embarrassing," Hong Kong mumbled, "but it was better than the fighting."

The laughter died in America's throat. Of course. The Opium Wars. America looked at Hong Kong, who was looking down at his own hands folded in his lap. To watch England and China - who were essentially his parents - go from being so "couply" to being in a war must have been...

"When did they start fighting?" America asked quietly.

"Not until I was older," Hong Kong answered. "Well...no, maybe earlier than that. When we first got to London, England took us everywhere - all of the tourist sites, plus lesser-known spots - restaurants, shops, parks. They always held hands and smiled at each other, then at me. It was a little embarrassing. Then China told me that England needed to take a couple of days off from going everywhere with us because he had work to do."

"Was it really work, or was that an excuse?"

"It was really work. England wanted to spend all day with us, but then he'd be up all night doing paperwork. We'd find him sleeping at his desk in his study. England was having some problems."

"Drinking?" America suggested.

"Financial," Hong Kong corrected. "Political. He was controlling a quarter of the world, you know."

"Yes, I know," America said, rolling his eyes. "We're reminded frequently."

"They...started holding hands less often," Hong Kong said. "Um...and they didn't really smile at each other. Not like they meant it."

"How come?"

"I don't really know," Hong Kong said, fidgeting. "Then they started fighting."

"Why?"

Hong Kong fidgeted a little more.

"Hong Kong, this is important," America said, leaning forward. "I don't mean to push you, but why were they fighting?"

"It was my fault!" Hong Kong blurted out, then clapped a hand over his mouth.

America's eyebrows shot up. "What?" he asked. "What was your fault?"

"The fighting," Hong Kong said, shrinking back into his seat. "I found pixie dust in China's room."

"...What?" America asked.

"Pixie dust," Hong Kong repeated, "like in England's stories. There was a whole bag of it in China's drawer. So I scooped it up and blew it to make my dreams and wishes come true, and it got everywhere - up my nose and everything. It made me feel...not _sick_, but not _normal_, either."

Hong Kong pulled his legs up onto the chair and hugged them to his chest. America felt a heavy weight on his chest.

"England got really mad and yelled a lot...about China lying and having a problem and doing this to me. China yelled a lot, too, that he didn't put it out where I could find it, and he didn't have a problem, and whose fault did England think it was when he's the one who gave him the stuff." Hong Kong looked away. "They yelled and yelled and yelled. Then England left and slammed the door, and China packed my things, and we went back to his house."

"You went back to China?" America asked.

"Yes."

"Did England tell you to go back?"

"He didn't know we were leaving." Hong Kong turned his eyes back to America. "He came after us and showed up on China's doorstep. China told me to stay in my room, but I didn't. I sat at the top of the stairs and listened."

"Did they yell?" America asked.

"No," Hong Kong said. "They were quiet. I couldn't hear everything they were saying, but England sounded scared. He cried a lot and kept apologizing, but China told him to go away. China said that he was..." His eyes lifted to the ceiling, and America could practically watch Hong Kong scanning his memories for the exact quotation. "A manipulative, lying, cheating, selfish bastard," - Hong Kong bobbed his head up and down with every adjective, as if mentally ticking them off - "...who was unfit to be my parent. Then he threw the ring at him and slammed the door, and I didn't see England again until he brought me back here after the war."

America nodded, looking at the floor and imagining little Hong Kong sitting at the top of China's stairs, listening to them fight below. Hong Kong had given him the least detailed account of anyone he'd talked to, and yet America felt like he'd just gotten the biggest part of the story.

After a moment, though, America frowned. One detail hadn't quite added up.

"The ring?" he asked, looking up at Hong Kong. "What ring?"

"What ring?" Hong Kong asked.

"The ring you just mentioned," America pressed. "You said that China threw 'the ring' at England. What ring?"

"The ring," Hong Kong said simply, frowning. "I don't know. The ring."

"What ring?"

"The ring!"

America sighed heavily, burying his face in his hands. "Like, a present from England or something?"

"Maybe. I don't know. China always had it." Hong Kong's eyes lifted to the ceiling again. "Mmm. As far back as I can remember, he was wearing it. England has it now, though. It's downstairs."

"Can I see it?"

Hong Kong nodded. "It's in his study, though, so just a quick look. He'll be home soon."

America agreed, and they hurried downstairs to England's study. Hong Kong opened up the top right-hand drawer of his desk and carefully began pulling out its contents - paperwork, a fountain pen, England's seal, envelopes - until he finally pulled out a little red box.

"I saw England looking at it once when I came in without knocking," Hong Kong said. "He tried to hide it, and I never brought it up. I think he looks at it a lot, though." He opened the box and showed America the ring inside - a simple enough gold band. America plucked it from the box and turned it over in his hands, examining it.

"It says something inside," he said, squinting. "It's in Chinese, I can't read it." Hong Kong looked at the box for a moment, as if considering something, then looked back up at America.

"It says 'beautiful,'" he said. "I always wondered about that, too."

"You've looked at this before?"

"A lot."

"Hong Kong?"

"Mmm?"

"It wasn't your fault."

Suddenly, they heard a key turning in the front door's lock. Hong Kong snatched the ring back from America, put it back in its box, and quickly replaced everything in the drawer and shut it.

"England's back, hurry, get out!" he said, his voice only slightly less monotonous than usual, and America booked it out of the study. "Back door! Back door!" Hong Kong yelled, and America changed directions quickly, bolting for the back door, Hong Kong right behind him. The front door opened just as America was out of view.

"Hong Kong?" England called. "What are you doing?"

"Ummm, I was feeling a little hungry!" Hong Kong called back. "Would you make me a snack, please?"

"Oh! Of course." England sounded so happy at the prospect of cooking. America turned to apologize to Hong Kong - the kid was taking a serious bullet to get him out of there - but Hong Kong shoved him out the back door and waved him along.

A thought crossed America's mind - an impossible, improbable, potentially true thought - and, despite the danger, he stopped and turned in the door. Hong Kong stared at him, dark eyes suddenly enormous.

"Hong Kong! Just one more question. China's ring - where did he wear it?" America asked, whiserping as best he could. "What finger?"

Distracted by the question, Hong Kong looked at him for a moment, then up at the sky, and held up his hands. After considering the question for a moment, he wiggled his left ring finger. America could feel his jaw literally dropping.

"You mean they were _married_?" he shrieked, and Hong Kong, looking quickly behind him and seeing England coming, slammed the door shut.


	9. Chapter 9

_"Ai-ya! What do you think you're doing?"_

_"Wh-what?"_

_England had to run to keep up with China as he stormed out of town and back to his home. He didn't understand what he'd done wrong - it was just one little kiss. China was furious, though._

_"What are you so upset about?"_

_"What do you think I'm upset about? What do you think you're doing, putting your lips on me like that! In broad daylight!" England's expression must have been as blank as his mind was at that moment, because China threw up his hands in exasperation. "I don't know what kind of customs you have in England, but here in China, that level of intimacy is only for married couples - and in the privacy of their own home!"_

_"That level of...intimacy?" England echoed._

_It was difficult, though. England wanted to respect China's feelings and customs, but in London, a couple sharing a kiss was nothing to get so angry about, and the gesture itself was such a nice reminder of the love shared. Being not just refused but adamantly so by China wasn't only wounding England's pride, after all._

_Soon after the first scenario - which China forgave because England legitimately had no idea what he'd done - though, England couldn't help himself, and was once again slapped._

_"You knew exactly what you were doing that time!"_

_"I know, I'm sorry!" England held up his hands defensively. "China, I don't understand. That night, when France...left...you let me kiss your hand, but now you don't want me to touch you at all."_

_"I wasn't expecting you to kiss my hand that night!" China said, blushing. "Besides, that's just your English way of showing respect, isn't it?"_

_"It's my 'English way' of showing how I feel about you," England said. "Sometimes you don't need to say the words out loud to be heard. We understand each other, don't we?" He looked away, hoping that his blush wasn't as noticeable as it felt. China paused then laughed._

_"Aiya, still so young. I keep forgetting how romantic you are," he teased. "You still need to learn the ways of the world, England."_

_"The world needs to learn the ways of the English," England corrected._

_"Oh, so you're going to tell me how to live, now?" China asked, laughing again._

_"The first thing to go is that 'no kissing' rule," England said, leaning closer to China, who expertly held up a hand to stop him._

_"It's not a 'no kissing' rule, for your information. That kind of intimacy is simply reserved for married couples."_

_"So marry me, then."_

_The statement had come out with virtually no thought preceding it, and it caught both China and England off guard._

_"Wh-what?" China asked, eyes wide._

_"So marry me, then," England said again, the teasing light gone from his eyes._

_After a terrifying moment of silence, China had stood and started pacing, ranting and raving about how they barely knew each other and it wouldn't make a bit of sense and where were they going to live it wasn't like England and China were neighboring countries. In fact, the more China yelled and protested, the more it sounded like he was saying "yes."_

_When England asked again, point-blank, if China would marry him, though, the only response was an exasperated "Ai-ya!" and China running out of the room blushing._

_All night long, China had strange dreams about wearing a ring, pushing a stroller, and living in a city where everybody wore suits and kissed in broad daylight. Every time he woke up, he reminded himself aloud how ridiculous this all was, and every time he fell back asleep, a new dream would arrive, full of white cakes, hand-holding, and little babies with unruly blond hair and almond-shaped eyes. Finally, China fell into a deep sleep._

_When he woke up in the morning, China knew that he had overslept because, firstly, hard sunlight was pouring in through the window, and, secondly, he could smell England burning breakfast downstairs._

_Groaning, he sat up. There on the pillow beside him was a little box, and China frowned, not recognizing it. Was it England's? What would England have been doing in his room, though? China opened the box and froze._

_Well, it was England's all right._

_Lying on the box's pillowed interior was a ring, a gold band that China knew was more than the simple piece of jewelry it seemed to be. After what had happened last night, China wasn't sure if he were impressed or angry that England had the audacity to leave an engagement ring on his pillow._

_There was something etched on the inside of the band. China picked it up and tilted the ring so that he could read the Chinese inscription._

Beautiful_._

_England hummed to himself as he put the last of China's surprise breakfast-in-bed on the tray, then reached into his pocket for the ring. He'd recognized the look on China's face the night before, and it certainly hadn't been one of rejection. With just the right romantic touch-_

_Where was the ring?_

_At that moment, England heard China's bedroom door slam upstairs, followed by footsteps rushing down the hallway and to the stairs, and panic flooded him. He must have dropped the box this morning when he went into China's room to make sure that he was still asleep. Now China was going to find it and get the wrong idea and-_

_China burst into the kitchen, hair still sticking up a little bit, cheeks stained with a blush, eyes softer than England had ever seen them. On China's left hand, England caught a glimmer of gold. He looked to China, not sure what to say, and China shyly pushed a loose strand of hair behind his ear, a small smile on his lips._

_"England?"_

_"Y-Yes?"_

_"Aren't you going to kiss me?"_

There would be another meeting tomorrow for the Allied nations. With America and France to think about, England should have been in bed hours before, resting up and building his strength, but it was hard to think about America and France with China occupying his mind. So, instead, England sat at his desk, the engagement ring China had thrown at him so many years ago now resting in his hand.

England never asked himself how it happened; he remembered that part quite well. The thing he always wondered, always in his mind and never aloud, was _why_ it happened.

He was so engrossed in his thoughts that he didn't hear the soft, measured knocking at his study door. Hong Kong opened the door a crack and peeked inside.

"England?"

England jumped, shoving the ring into its box and hiding it in his desk, turning back to face Hong Kong.

"Hong Kong! What are you still doing up?"

"I had a bad dream."

Well, that was unusual. Hong Kong never got up in the night, even when he had bad dreams. England could remember on more than one occasion going into Hong Kong's room in the morning to find him wide awake in bed, a flashlight in one hand, a cricket bat in the other. If Hong Kong had actually gotten up in the night, it must have been an intense nightmare.

England held out his arms, and Hong Kong crawled into his lap, curling up in the safety of his embrace. Kissing the top of Hong Kong's head, England rocked back and forth a little bit, a comforting motion he'd picked up when Hong Kong was small. Hong Kong hummed and closed his eyes.

"I feel like a little kid," he mumbled, and England smiled.

"You're never too old to get nightmares," he said, "or hugs." Hong Kong coughed, hiding a laugh. After a moment longer of rocking, England asked, "What was it about?"

"It wasn't really a scary dream, like with monsters, or anything," Hong Kong said. "It was just..." He gestured loosely, failing to come up with a word. "It was scary, but different scary."

"How so?"

"Well, you were there," Hong Kong said, "but you were bad."

"I was bad?" England asked, and though his tone was gentle, his arms held Hong Kong a little tighter. Hong Kong nodded.

"Not to me. I don't even know if I were there in the dream, you know? I was just watching."

"So, I was bad to someone else?" England asked, and Hong Kong tilted his head back to look up at him before snuggling a little closer. "You can tell me. It was just a dream."

Hong Kong thought about it. "You hurt China," he said finally. England's hug tightened again. "I tried to stop you, but it was a dream, and I couldn't."

"Dreams can be scary like that," England said, swallowing. "You didn't want China to get hurt, but the dream wouldn't let you help him."

"It wasn't that, exactly," Hong Kong said. "I didn't want _you_ to be bad, but, in the dream, I couldn't go to you. It wouldn't let me."

England didn't say anything, but he combed back Hong Kong's hair with his fingers and nodded. Hong Kong's eyes fluttered at the soothing gesture, and England relaxed at the first sign that Hong Kong was drifting off to sleep.

Snapping awake, though, Hong Kong reached into England's desk and pulled out the hidden box, opening it and studying the ring inside. England froze, not knowing what to say. Hong Kong turned the ring over in his hands, as England had been doing not long before, and read the inscription.

Hong Kong had done this before; though England couldn't say how, the thought entered his mind that this was not the first time that Hong Kong was looking at this ring.

"I'm sorry," Hong Kong said finally.

"F...for what?" England asked.

"For making China go away."

The statement nearly made England fall off his chair. "What? Hong Kong, you didn't make China go away! Where would you get an idea like that?"

"I _did_ make China go away," Hong Kong said, his voice monotonous as usual. England stared at him, but Hong Kong looked away. "I went into his room without permission, and I took that powder, and that's when you guys started fighting."

"No, Hong Kong," England said, shaking his head. "It wasn't your fault that we were fighting. China and I...had our differences."

"You didn't have them before," Hong Kong said. "I wish I hadn't gone in there. I broke it."

"'Broke it?'"

"Our family." Neither Hong Kong nor England had ever used that word to describe their life with China, but it occurred to England that they really _had_ been a family. Of course Hong Kong realized it; the result of the Opium War had been to him a terrible fight between his-

Between England and China. Of course.

Hong Kong continued to study the ring, adamantly avoiding England's eyes. "I'm sorry that I broke us," he said in a small voice. "I wish that I could bring China back."

"China and I had to go our separate ways," England said firmly. "We weren't fighting because of you, Hong Kong, I promise. We were fighting because of us. It was better that China went back to his home."

"But you came after us," Hong Kong protested. "You didn't want China to leave."

"No, I didn't, but I didn't realize at the time that China's leaving was the best thing." England ran his fingers through Hong Kong's silky hair, thinking to himself how it was just like China's. "We still fought after that. I wish that we hadn't, but I made some poor choices back then. I wish that I could change things, too."

"Why did you fight?" Hong Kong asked.

"There were a lot of reasons," England said. "China is much older than I am, you know, and he's seen a lot of the world. He knew things that I didn't, and I...made a lot of mistakes."

_"I knew that you would be like this, aru. I wanted to believe that you wouldn't change, that you'd stay young and full of dreams and life, but look at you now. Mr. Empire-on-Whom-the-Sun-Never-Sets, aru. Look at this wonderful world you've made for yourself. Is any part of you the same as it was, aru? Where is he - where is the England I fell in love with? Where is the England who is gentle and kind and romantic, aru? You don't even remember, do you, aru? I can't even look at you right now."_

"I was young when I first met China, and, as I grew up, I had to think about different things, like finances and politics - things that I had avoided in my rebellious teenage years." England tried to smile down at Hong Kong's expressionless face, but it was impossible. "I...didn't handle the transition well at first. That was when China and I started to fight."

"When did you stop fighting?" Hong Kong asked.

_China's golden eyes were harder than England had ever seen them before, and he admired the fact that, beaten and broken, China still maintained his fighting spirit._

_"Well, aru?" he spat, glaring up at England, pistol in hand, hovering above him. "I'm unarmed, aru. Aren't you going to finish it?"_

_England should have been angry, should have been blinded by fury after everything he and China had been through. English soldiers had died. The Chinese were refusing to trade. Even the system the British had worked out to bypass China's laws against opium, was failing._

_Worst of all, China had taken Hong Kong away from him._

_Even so, as England hovered over China now, the pistol shook in his trembling hand. He couldn't do it. There was no way he could do it. This had all gone too far, and no matter how angry he was, it didn't change the fact that his heart hurt as he looked down at China, who hated him._

_"No," he said, his voice sounding more in control than he felt. "You're no good to me dead. You're going to sign a treaty that will make you regret crossing the British Empire, and you're going to live the rest of your life knowing that you couldn't beat us."_

_I love you._

_I'm so sorry._

_I wish it were different._

_China stared up at him, his hard, golden eyes searching him as they had so many times before. England knew China's every idiosyncrasy, every habit, every flaw. China knew him better than he knew himself; he knew that England couldn't bring himself to finish it._

_The hatred that had ebbed from China's eyes as he stared hard into England's soon returned._

_"Coward," China whispered._

"Not for a long time," England admitted, picking up Hong Kong and carrying him back to bed.

The reason for that, England knew, was partly because the treaty he forced China to sign turned Hong Kong over to him. Despite everything they went through together, England knew that this was the one thing China would never forgive. Sometimes he wondered if Hong Kong resented the treaty, too; he'd made it clear that he missed China and the three of them being together. Hong Kong wanted a family, and England had deprived him of that.

"We still haven't really worked out all of our differences, but we're getting better." As England tucked in Hong Kong and kissed him good night, he added, "Believe me, Hong Kong, this isn't your fault. Don't you worry about that." He smiled down at the little boy, and Hong Kong stared back up at him.

It was amazing; though Hong Kong's eyes were much darker, they suddenly seemed identical to China's, staring up at England and tapping into his soul through his eyes. Hong Kong was searching for something.

"England?" he whispered. "China doesn't hate you...and neither do I."


	10. Chapter 10

England was almost always the first person to arrive at the Allies' meetings, so when he turned a corner and saw France flouncing into the meeting room, he was surprised. When he got to the meeting room himself and saw France talking with America and Russia, he was stunned. When their conversation came to an abrupt end upon his arrival, suspicion flared inside of him.

"What were you talking about just now?" he asked, getting straight to the point.

"Uhh...beating the Axis powers! Yeah!" America said, pumping his fist in the air. Russia smiled, and France chortled; the two of them sat in their usual seats, so England got some relief knowing that he wouldn't have to sit next to China at today's meeting. He took his usual seat, still watching his comrades' suspicious faces - except Russia, of course.

"Are we starting, then?" England asked.

"We're waiting for China," France answered.

England frowned. "We never wait for China." America and France exchanged awkward glances, though Russia's gentle smile never left his face.

"We're waiting for China," Russia repeated, and though his voice was sweet as ever, it sent a chill down the other three's spines.

"Right," England said.

They sat in a painful silence for a few moments before America burst and started rambling about superheroes; Russia listened and nodded, and France laughed, but England's usual grouchy reprimand was absent as he wondered why they were waiting for China.

What felt like a long time later, China walked through the door, expression guarded, already assuming the stance he took when announcing that he was late because of dinner and regretted nothing - only to find the other four - well, three, minus the still-rambling America - quietly sitting at the table.

"_Ni hao_," he said instead, eyebrow quirking. "Why are you all just sitting there?"

"We were waiting for you," America bubbled, spreading his arms wide. China's eyebrows shot to his hairline, and he scanned Russia's, France's, and England's expressions, searching for an explanation for this unusual behavior. His eyes lingered on England's a moment longer than the others', and England sensed that China saw his mutual confusion. Composing himself, China marched to his usual seat beside Russia.

"Well then?" England asked, turning to America. "Aren't we going to start the meeting now?"

"Well," America said, "today we're going to do something a little different!"

"Here we go," England said, putting a hand to his forehead.

"We need to do some team bonding!" America continued. England's and China's expressions grew incredulous, though England guessed that France and Russia were not hearing this information for the first time, because neither of them so much as flinched. "I mean, we're the _Allies_, guys! We need to work together!"

"You're not going to make one of us fall backwards and the rest of us catch him, are you?" England deadpanned.

"No, we're just going to eat chocolate and do each other's hair, aru," China added, and England turned away to hide his smile.

"Actually," America interjected about thirty seconds too late, "we're going to play a game!"

"A game," England repeated flatly. America nodded.

"Yeah! It's called 'What Have You Done'!"

"Sounds appropriate."

China coughed, and England couldn't help looking over to see that he was hiding a laugh.

"Well, how it works is, one person will ask everyone else if they've done something! Like...have you ever gone on a roller coaster and puked? If you've done it, you have to raise your hand!"

"That's stupid," England said. "How is this supposed to help us defeat the Axis Powers?"

"Because we're going to bond!" America argued. "If you and France both puked on a roller coaster, you could band together against the inevitable ridicule you'll face from those of us who can handle it!"

"Excuse me?" England yelled.

Seeing that a fight was starting, France opened his mouth to intervene, but Russia spoke first.

"That sounds like fun," he said, and America and England fell silent.

"Fine," England muttered.

"All right!" America said. "I'll be the one to ask what you guys have done!"

"Of course you will," England said, rubbing his temples.

"First off!" America said. "Have you ever gone skinny dipping?"

France raised his hand. England shot America an incredulous look.

"What in the hell-"

"Second!" America said. "Have you ever eaten a meal with more than five courses?"

America and France raised their hands, followed by a wary China. England looked around the table, shaking his head.

"Third!" America said. "Have you ever wrestled a bear?"

He laughed, but China and Russia both raised their hands.

"It was a panda," China said, "and we were just playing around."

"It was a grizzly bear," Russia said, "and it tried to eat the campfire dinner Lithuania was cooking for me."

The room fell silent.

"Uh...next!" America said. "Have you ever...been married?" Though Russia continued smiling and France seemed normal, England's and China's expressions were difficult to read. America elaborated, "Vegas marriages count!"

"None of us have been married," England said. "You should know that, America."

"I said that Vegas marriages count!"

"Why wouldn't they count? They're marriages!"

"Fine, whatever! Has anyone _almost_ been married? I mean, come on, it's not like you guys are all hermits!" America looked around the table triumphantly. "You must have at least thought about it!"

England's eyes narrowed. "Why are you pushing this?"

China bit his lip thoughtfully, then slowly raised his hand. America lit up.

"Really? You did, China? When? Who?"

"That wasn't part of the question, aru." China's expression remained guarded, but his cheeks colored.

Chuckling, France also raised his hand.

"France, you, too!" America squealed. "Don't tell me that you two were into _each other_!"

"Don't be ridiculous!" England snapped, and, when America turned, he saw that England had grudgingly raised his hand.

"Jealous, much?" America laughed. "England, put your hand down! We all know _you_ weren't thinking about marriage! Who would eat your cooking 'til death do you part?"

England's face flooded, and his expression looked as if he'd been slapped. His eyes flickered to China, who, for once, met his glance with sympathy.

_"How is it?" England asked, watching intently. "Tell me honestly. How is it?"_

"Honestly?" China asked weakly, swallowing a mouthful of what England claimed was chicken. "It's...it's awful, England."

England's face fell, and he sat down quickly on the other side of the table. "Oh." He paused, looking at the full plate of dinner still sitting in front of China. "You won't want the rest of that, then."

"Of course I do," China corrected, swatting away England's hand as he tried to take the plate. "You_ made it for me. I want it."_

"So you guys were all thinking about marriage at some point!" America said, looking around the table. "Are you sure there wasn't some sort of European-Chinese thing going on way back when?" He laughed.

"Well," France chortled, "China and I did hit it off when we first met."

"We did not, aru!" China said.

"You did not!" England snapped at the same time.

"Of course, China was a bit of a heart-breaker in those days," France said loftily. "So-"

"I was _not_ a heart-breaker, aru!" China yelled, standing up and slamming his palms on the table. "I've only been in love with one person in my entire life, and _he_ broke _my_ heart!"

"What?" England yelled, also standing up. "_I_ broke _your_ heart?"

"Yes, you did, aru!" China snapped, not noticing that the other three had fallen silent. "You changed! You lied to me, aru! Getting me addicted to your drugs and-"

"Don't even blame your addiction on me!" England roared. "You had that problem _long_ before I came into the picture, China, and, if you use your 'older and wiser' brain for half a minute, you'll recall that I tried to _help_ you with your addiction. Do you have any idea how much it hurt to see you like that?"

"Yeah, I'm sure you really cared," China sneered, "while you were smuggling opium into my country, aru!"

"Smuggling?" England laughed harshly. "China, you _knew_ what was going on! When we set up trade, you wouldn't take any English goods, and we were losing so much money on you! I couldn't afford it, China, and once my boss found out that opium was in demand in your country, there was nothing I could do about it. You would have done the same thing."

"I would not have, aru!"

"Yes, you would have!" England said, glaring across the table. "China, you _knew_ that we were importing opium, and you didn't do a damn thing about it. You had laws, but you didn't enforce them. Your government officials were smoking it-"

"Shut up!"

"-and so were you! You had a problem, China!" England's fists trembled. "I tried to help you, I tried to stop you, even though losing the opium trade would have hurt _my_ country financially."

He took a deep breath, steeling himself as he looked China straight in the eye.

"You told me that you didn't love me because I changed, because I wasn't the same person you'd fallen in love with, but I wasn't the only one. How wise and proud do you think you were, lying on a bed _high_ all day, huh? How _beautiful_ do you think you were when you were so screwed up you couldn't see straight?"

China's face flooded. "How _dare_ you, aru?"

"How dare I? How dare I?" England asked, his voice getting louder. "Do you even remember those days in London? You were so messed up with those drugs, I seriously doubt it! I found opium everywhere in your room, and then Hong Kong found it! Do you remember _that_?"

"Shut up!" China yelled.

"Do you remember _that_, China?" England asked, slamming his hands down on the table. "Hong Kong ingested opium that was lying around in your room!"

"Shut up!"

"He almost _died_, China!"

"_Shut up!_"

"You don't want to hear that, though, do you?" England asked, his voice low. "It hurts to think that you almost killed Hong Kong because you were so high that you didn't even care."

"...Stop it," China said, a tremor in his voice.

"Poor you, poor China," England said, tilting his head with mock sympathy. "Poor little victim of the Opium Wars, poor little martyr who suffered bad, mean England's betrayal. Poor China, who never put himself in front of others."

China leaned over the table and slapped England as hard as he could across the face. The meeting room finally fell completely silent.

After a moment, though, England's soft, mirthless chuckle cut through the quiet. He shook his head and looked up, and China was taken aback to see that his eyes were wet, though from his emotions or the pain of the slap, he couldn't be sure.

"China," England said. "I was finally back on my feet. I had everything under control, and I was coming home to my _family_."

China stared.

"All of our fighting seemed so meaningless to me when Hong Kong was in the hospital," England continued, swallowing. "It was a terrible thing, and it never should have happened...but, at the time, I thought that maybe there _was_ something good about it. Almost losing Hong Kong would be a wake-up call for you, I thought, and you would finally stop taking opium. We'd stop fighting. Hong Kong was okay, and everything that really, truly mattered in my life was intact."

China slowly sat down again.

"When I came home from work that night, I thought that my family would be there to welcome me, happy to be together, like we used to be." England sat down, too. "When I got home, you were high."

China looked down at the table.

"So we fought, as always," England continued, his voice growing softer, as if he were speaking to himself. "I couldn't believe that you were still doing it. I was so angry, I had to leave, walk around London, gather my thoughts. It started to rain, so I came home. You were gone, and so was Hong Kong."

England's voice cracked, and China looked up at him again, meeting his eyes.

"For so long, I was afraid that my love wasn't enough for you," he said, "and that night, I knew once and for all that I was right."

"You-"

"You weren't going to change," England continued. "We weren't going to be happy together. Hong Kong was gone."

"That..." China faltered.

"I wish that I had done things differently," England said. "I wish that the Opium Wars had never happened. I wish that we could have stayed the way we were, but we couldn't. There's nothing I can do to fix that now."

China pressed his lips together and squared his shoulders.

"I'm sorry for everything that I did to you, China," England said, "including breaking your heart...but you broke my heart, too."

The span of that fight was the longest America had gone during a meeting without speaking, and though he was fascinated by the sudden turn of events - even he hadn't predicted that he'd get _that_ much dirt out of goading them - he was bursting. France was staring, open-mouthed, at England, and Russia was regarding both England and China with quiet curiosity. If anyone were going to take heroic action and speak, it would have to be America.

"Okay!" he announced. The others turned to him - France surprised, Russia calm, China and England both startled - and America stood, squaring his shoulders importantly. "You see? Now we've got some honest feelings out in the open!"

"Honest feelings?" England yelled, standing up so quickly that he nearly knocked over his chair. "You had this planned, didn't you, you bastard!"

"But we still need to work out some bugs!" America said. "Namely, England and China have some stuff to deal with that doesn't really affect any of us but is totally cramping our Allied style! So! As the leader, I've decided that you two need to talk about your feelings and stuff and, like, get over this, 'kay? Great!" He ran around the table and grabbed France and Russia by their arms, dragging them out the door. "You guys stay in here until you make up, all right?" England and China barely had a chance to respond to America's slightly unstable grin before he'd slammed the door shut and locked it behind him.

England turned and stared at China, who stared back incredulously, and they both leaped up and ran to the door, pounding on it with their fists and yelling, China in his native tongue, England in a breathless string of obscenities. Finally, China pushed England aside.

"What the bloody-?" England's complaint cut off as he saw China pushing off of the ground and throwing a roundhouse kick at the door. Under the force of China's martial arts, the door gave and pushed open.

"Ha!" China yelled, and, without thinking, turned to grin at England. The smile soon melted into a wary expression, however, and he hesitated.

"Excellent," England said, recovering poorly. "I should have just turned the job over to you in the first place."

"True, aru," China said, turning back to admire his handiwork. "You Westerners always underestimate my abilities." England's face flooded, but he said nothing, and China went to open the door all the way.

"Hello there," Russia greeted them, standing in the doorway. "Everybody thought that it would be a good idea if I stayed here and made sure that you two weren't fighting." Russia leaned forward, eyebrows knitting together. "I think that it would be nice if we could all get along, don't you?"

China slammed the door shut.

"Those bastards, aru!" he wailed. "They put Russia on guard duty!"

"Why don't you just kick him like you did the door? Didn't you just get through saying how we underestimate your abilities?" England asked sarcastically, though China shot him a look.

"Why don't _you_ kick him, aru. Stupid."

England sighed. "You always _were_ awful with sarcasm."

"What do you mean by that, aru?"

"Nothing." England returned to his seat. "Come on, China. There's no way out of this one." He rubbed his temples again, mentally swearing to strangle America the second he got out of this meeting room. "We need to talk."

"Hahaha! They haven't been giving you any trouble, have they, Russia?" America asked, returning to the hallway with a bottle of cola in hand.

"Not at all," Russia replied with a smile. "They wanted to come out at first, but I told them that we want to get along, and they decided to stay."

America fought the instinctual shiver that ran up his spine. "No kidding? Well, that's cool!"

"America," France said, sitting against the wall opposite the meeting room's door. "I'm not sure that this will work."

"What do you mean?" America said, taking a swig of cola. "It's a great plan! _I_ came up with it, after all, and - hey!" America's eyebrows knitted. "France, you seem kind of serious right now!"

"...That's because I _am_ serious, America," France muttered. "Look, nobody enjoys pushing England's buttons more than I do..."

"Bzzt, wrong! I totally enjoy pushing England's buttons more than you do!" America interrupted brightly.

"...but China is a sensitive subject for him. Even I don't usually tease him about it. When I brought it up during that meeting a while back, it just sort of slipped out."

America's smile melted away. "Hey, France," he said, "you know more about this than you told me, don't you?"

France didn't say anything for a moment, and Russia looked back and forth between his allies with a small, sad smile.

"I think it makes China sad, too," he said, and America and France turned to him in surprise. "It's good for them to talk. Hopefully, they won't be sad anymore, but, either way, at least they will have closure, and that will ease the pain."

"Russia, that's, like, super mature, dude!" America said, awed. "You're totally insightful!"

"He's just stating the obvious," France muttered, though he, too, looked at Russia with new respect.

"When China is less upset about his relationship with England, he'll be happier about becoming one with me," Russia added, his smile renewed. America and France shivered.

"So, France," America said, turning away from Russia's placid smile, "what didn't you tell me the other day? This is important, dude! We just locked England and China in there until they make up, so any dirt you have that could speed up the process would be totally cool!"

France brushed a strand of wavy golden hair out of his eyes. "I told you about when they first met, but I was around long after that. It was no secret that they were together, after all. China was living with England for a long time, and they were caring for a child together, if I recall correctly."

"Hong Kong," America said, nodding.

"I fought in the Opium Wars, too, you know," France continued, eyes faraway. "At the end of the war, it was obvious that China was going to lose. He and England fought each other, and England got the upper hand...but didn't finish it. Ah, no, that's not the right way to say it. He _couldn't_ finish it. England couldn't hurt China, and he almost got himself killed for letting his heart overrule his common sense."

"It's strange to hear you speak of love as a bad thing, France," Russia said.

"What do you mean, 'almost got himself killed'?" America asked, fingers tightening around his soda bottle.

"Chinese soldiers caught up to them and saw that China was in danger," France explained. "England did all right holding them off, but I had to step in and help. I didn't know until later that England had already beaten China, so I...I shot him."

America lurched forward. "You shot _China_? Dude! Not cool!"

"It was during the wars, you idiot," France sighed. "I know that it's not 'cool,' but I thought that he was my enemy. He couldn't believe that I'd shot him, either."

_It had been a long time since France learned the truth about China's gender, and seeing him in the crossfires of war, he could see that the Asian nation truly was a man. In that moment, though, as time seemed to slow down, France recognized the delicate hands he'd thought were a woman's when they'd tipped a teapot to refill his cup with bitterness and warmth. He saw the smooth, unblemished skin he'd thought was a girl's, the long, ash hair that had seemed so free and feminine, now pulled back and tied tightly. He saw the spark of surprise that lit up golden eyes, once both fierce and tender, and the small circle that soft lips made as a single sharp exhale, a tiny whimper, passed through them. China stumbled and fell backwards._

He'd shot China.

He'd shot China_._

The gun shook in his trembling hands, and France nearly dropped his weapon, feeling the color draining from his face. He'd thought that it was an attack on England. He'd only been protecting his comrade. He hadn't realized whom he was shooting.

England was screaming and running to China, falling to his knees beside him and cradling his head in his arms, pressing his hand to the wound in China's side; blood trickled through England's fingers, and France suddenly felt dizzy. He slowly sank to his knees.

"China! China, please...China, please!"

England was saying the same things over and over again. China's name, please, begging, apologizing, crying. France had never seen him like this before. He wondered what could have pushed England into this war when it was obvious that he'd never wanted China to be in pain.

Though England's pleas and apologies rolled together into an incomprehensible torrent, one repeated sentence came through loud and clear: "I love you." He said it again and again, not even seeming to realize that France was right behind them, and each repetition was more desperate than the last. China's response to England's declarations came out just as clearly, though he gritted his teeth from the pain of his injury.

"Go to Hell."

America and Russia were quiet for a long time after France had finished. Behind the meeting room doors, England and China were just as quiet. In fact, from the time they had initially tried to escape from the room, no sound had come through the doors.

"You know," France said softly, "I think that every person England has ever loved has declared war on him."

America's face flushed, and he turned away, facing the door. "They've been really quiet!" he complained loudly. After a moment, he added to himself, "It's not everybody England's ever...Hong Kong hasn't declared war on him. Just another reason why he's the favorite, I guess."


	11. Chapter 11

For a long time, England and China sat across from one another at the meeting table, both looking anywhere but at each other, neither knowing how or where to begin. They needed to talk; that much was clear. After all this time, though, what could either of them say?

_England had followed him all the way to China. Here he was, standing on the doorstep, just to start up their stupid fight again, like a child picking at a wound, making it bleed again instead of allowing it to heal._

_"Get out."_

_"China-"_

_"Get out."_

_"We need to talk about this. You can't just leave and-"_

_"Get out!"_

_"-take Hong Kong with you, that isn't right! You-"_

_"Didn't you hear me? _Get out!_"_

_On and on it went, until, finally, England broke down, his loud, angry voice dropping to a pathetic whisper._

_"Please don't leave me."_

_China was taken aback, but he also knew better than to let an opportunity to beat England pass._

_"Why shouldn't I leave you?" he hissed. "After everything you've done? You _lied_ to me, England. You sold me the opium yourself, and now you're trying to say that the problem is only mine? Scum! Trying to keep Hong Kong to yourself, raise him as a Westerner? I won't have it!"_

_England was silent, his green eyes wounded, his shoulders hunched. China was going to win this fight - he was determined to win it - and he went in for the killing blow_

_"You are a manipulative, lying, cheating, selfish bastard, and you're unfit to be Hong Kong's parent. You don't deserve him. Or me." China's movement was jerky, but he yanked the ring off of his finger - the promise ring, the engagement ring, the ring engraved with their special word "beautiful" - and threw it as hard as he could at England. "Now get the hell out!"_

_He slammed the door as hard as he could and locked it, turning and leaning his back against it. He closed his eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath, and as he exhaled, he opened his eyes again and looked up. At the top of the stairs, looking down from between the railing bars, was Hong Kong._

Finally, after pointedly avoiding looking at each other, England's and China's eyes happened to meet. Both stiffened, though China recovered first, folding his arms on the table and relaxing his shoulders.

"Where do we start, aru?" he asked. England sighed, folding his hands in an almost religious manner. Holding China's gaze, he took a deep breath and asked what needed to be asked before he and China could say anything further.

"Do you hate me?"

_China stared hard into England's face the entire time he was reading off the treaty following their war. Not a single muscle in his face twitched as he listened to England list the goods and services China with would accommodate his country. Still, England was dreading reading the last stipulation, even though it was by far the most important._

_"...Lastly...Hong Kong."_

_China tensed, eyes widening._

_"Hong Kong will become a part of the British Empire," England continued, willing himself to look at China, knowing that looking down at the written treaty now would be an act of cowardice. "I will have full, sole custody of him. You won't see him again."_

_China exploded, as England had know that he would, standing up and slamming his hands down on the table, screaming at England. He spoke only Chinese, refusing to speak in English. Every word out of his mouth, England had prepared himself for; even so, actually hearing the string of curses and expulsions coming from China's lips was a nightmare._

_"I hate you!"_

_"You bastard! You bastard!"_

_"You can't...Please, you can't!"_

_England stood and grabbed China's flailing arms, his hands gently encircling the other's wrists. "China," he whispered, "think about Hong Kong. I know that you don't want to lose him, but I don't want him with you when you're like this - addicted, dependent, dangerous."_

_"I'm not dangerous! I'm fine!" China snarled. "I've been getting better every day, which you'd know if you were paying any attention! I would never hurt Hong Kong. You selfish bastard, how dare you take him away from me, I-"_

_England knew that this would stretch into a long, arduous fight, and he wanted to avoid it. He'd been fighting with China for too long already; Hong Kong was going with him, and that was final._

_"No, China," he cut the other off, steeling his voice to a tone much more assured than he felt. "You're a drug addict, you're in shambles, and you _can't_ take care of Hong Kong. You're unfit to be his parent." It was cold, cruel, and completely unplanned; the vindictive echo of China's earlier accusation felt simultaneously delicious and painful on England's tongue._

_China stared at him, stunned, before his expression hardened, and he spat in England's face._

_"Just go die!" he said, tearing his hands away from England's grasp. "Just do us all a favor and kill yourself! I never want to see your face again!"_

"No," China said, closing his eyes. "I don't hate you, aru. I hate what you did."

England swallowed.

"I know why you did it," China continued, opening his eyes again, "but I still hate that you did it, aru."

"I understand. I would have felt the same way had our positions been reversed."

China held his gaze for a long moment, his eyes challenging, but also glimmering with another emotion England recognized: fear.

"I don't hate you, either," England said, answering China's unasked question. "I hate what you _didn't_ do."

"So do I, aru."

They were quiet for a moment longer, neither knowing what to say next.

"You still loved me, didn't you?" China asked, looking away awkwardly. "When we went to war."

"...Yes," England said guardedly. China nodded.

"I did, too, aru."

England's face flushed.

"Do you still love me now?"

The question came out of nowhere and was completely inappropriate, yet England couldn't bring himself to regret asking it. China turned back to him, taken aback.

"Even just a little," England pressed, unfolding his hands and placing them flat against the table. "Does any part of you, no matter how small...still love me?"

"Why would you ask something like that, aru?" China stuttered, withdrawing. "We've barely spoken in so many years, and we're both different people now than we were then, I..." Regaining some of his confidence, China straightened. "Wait. If you're going to ask me that, then I'll ask you, too, aru! Do you still love me?"

England jerked back in his seat; he hadn't thought of China turning the question around on him. "I..."

"You see?" China asked triumphantly. "You can't answer something like that, can you, aru?"

England sighed and reached into his jacket, drawing something out of a hidden pocket and leaning across the table, holding it up for China to see. Between his index finger and thumb was a gold ring. China's breath caught.

"You still have that, aru?" he asked.

"Obviously," England said.

"Why?" China asked, eyes softening, and England smiled weakly, toying with the ring between his fingers.

"Why do you think?" he asked quietly, looking down at it. China took a deep breath, pressing his lips together hard before exhaling sharply.

"I can't believe that you kept that all this time," he said, "and never gave it back to me."

England looked up. "What?" he asked. "Give it back to you?"

"Of course, aru!" China snapped, blushing. "It's mine, isn't it? It was a gift, wasn't it? Or are you taking it back, aru?"

England stared at China. Then his stunned expression warmed as his lips curved into a crooked smile.

"No, I'm not taking it back," he said, placing the ring in the palm of China's outstretched hand. "So, does this mean...?"

China's fingers closed around the ring. "It means that we have a lot more talking to do, aru," he said, "and a lot of work on...us...too." The word was so familiar and yet so foreign on his tongue. "It means that we'll see."

"We'll see," England echoed with a little smile. "Well, then, we should talk."

"We should, aru."

"Over dinner?"

China's expression was one of horror, and England pursed his lips.

"We'll go to a _restaurant_, if that makes you feel any better. I'll make reservations...for the three of us."

"The three of us?" China asked, perplexed at first, but, seeing the expression on England's face, realizing whom he meant. "Hong Kong?"

"He should be a part of this," England said quickly, looking away. "We need to talk a little bit more now - things that we won't say in front of him - but I'm not leaving him out of-"

China threw himself across the table, wrapping his arms around England and toppling his chair. England yelped as they fell to the floor.

"What the bloody hell are you-?"

"Hong Kong!" China cried, burying his face in the crook of England's neck and trembling. "I'll get to see him again, aru..."

England automatically reached up and ran his fingers through China's ponytail, the ash hair as silky as he remembered.

"They've been super quiet!" America yelled, putting his hands on his hips, not unlike Superman. If only he had a cape to complete his heroic pose. "We should check on them! I mean-"

A gentle, timid knock came from the other side of the meeting room door. America, Russia, and France exchanged glances before America stepped closer to the door.

"Hello?" he asked. "England? China? Did you make up?"

"No, it's me," a quiet voice whispered back. "Y-You guys locked me in here with them by mistake. They seem to be getting along - they're talking about having dinner with Hong Kong - but they want to talk more, and I was hoping that you could let me out of here..."

America looked back at Russia and France incredulously, then turned to the door again.

"Who is this?" he demanded.

"C-Canada..."


	12. Epilogue

It was some time later when America saw Hong Kong again, and already America could see a change in him. His once darkened eyes were brighter, and, though not exactly jubilant, his lips seemed perpetually curved into a cute, tiny smile.

"Hey, Hong!" he yelled. "Oops! I mean, Hong Kong!"

"You can call me 'Hong' if you want," Hong Kong said.

"How've you been, bro?" America asked, high-fiving Hong Kong.

"Well, thanks. And you?"

"I've been awesome, as always!" America said, grinning. "You seem better than 'well,' little dude!"

"Do I?" There was that shy smile again. America couldn't help but coo, ruffling Hong Kong's hair. Between China's pretty hair and the slightest hint of an accent he'd clearly picked up from England - not to mention the boss advice he was going to get from his honorary big brother, America - Hong Kong was going to be a total natural with the ladies when he got a little bigger. "I suppose I am. How have England and China been at your meetings?"

"Soooo embarrassing!" America laughed. "They're always holding hands and stuff, or making googly eyes at each other instead of listening to my totally awesome plans for beating the Axis! It's really weird! But cool, you know!"

Hong Kong's smile widened, and America threw an arm around him as they headed back inside England's house.

"America?" he asked.

"Yeah, bro?"

"Thank you."

"For what?" America laughed.

"Well, England said that he and China never would've gotten back together if you hadn't stuck your big fat nose into other people's business. So, thank you."

America ruffled Hong Kong's hair again. "Any time, little dude!" he said, pumping his fist in the air. His smile disappeared almost instantly, though, and he looked back down at Hong Kong. "Wait a second. England called me fat? I hook him back up with the love of his life, and he calls me fat? Not cool! So not cool!"

Hong Kong laughed, his dark eyes sparkling, tiny flecks of green and gold shimmering just around his pupils.


End file.
